Even If You Never Love Me
by DustyDreams
Summary: "In a perfect world, I'd be able to know what it's like to... hold your hand? Take you on a date? Kiss you? You'd let me feel what it's like to be your boyfriend, just for a day. Just for one day. One day where you're mine?"
1. Chapter 1

Finn's in the middle of boiling water for hot chocolate when the doorbell rings. This is quite a shock. The cocoa is not simply a whim; Finn's freezing because there is _literally_ a blizzard outside. Well, it's snowing.

Finn slips into his winter coat in preparation and opens the door. "Blaine? Dude, what are you doing here?"

Blaine's teeth chatter as he speaks, not in nearly enough clothing for the weather, "Kurt didn't tell you? I'm visiting him."

"Yeah, but it's snowing."

"Oh, that. That started about halfway through my drive. Surprise! But, I made it."

"I'm sure Kurt would have understood, Man. You could have wrecked."

"Well, I haven't seen him all break and there are only a few days left- Could I come in? It's really cold out here."

"Sure! Sorry," Finn steps aside to let Blaine through, then locks the weather out. "Kurt! Blaine's here!"

Kurt immediately comes rushing down the stairs, "What? Oh my God, are you insane? You drove in this weather?" Kurt catches sight of Blaine's shivering form and immediately softens. He grabs a blanket off the back of the couch, "Oh, you must be freezing!" He wraps the knitted wool around Blaine and pulls him into a hug.

Blaine nuzzles closer, seeking Kurt's warmth.

"I was making hot chocolate. Want some?"

"I'm sure he's prefer tea. Here, Blaine, I'll go brew you some."

Before Kurt can pull away, Blaine grabs his wrist, "Actually, hot chocolate sounds nice. And... you're warm."

Kurt chuckles, "All right, I'll play space heater. Let's get you set up on the couch." He never removes his arms from around Blaine as he maneuvers them to the comfy sofa, for which Blaine is grateful.

Sitting, Blaine immediately leans his head on Kurt's shoulder. It's not every day he gets a chance to be this close to Kurt, and they haven't seen each other for over a week; he's going to get the most he can out of this.

"I still can't believe you drove all that way in this weather."

"Half that way. The first half was fine."

"Still. You're lucky to be alive."

"I missed you."

"I'd miss you a lot more if you skidded on ice and plowed through a tree."

Blaine swallows. He knows this is just concern talking, but he can't stand Kurt sounding so disappointed in him. "Don't be mad at me? Please?"

"Fine," Kurt sighs, "but only because you look like an adorable snowman."

Blaine touches his cold-reddened nose, "I feel more like Rudolph."

Kurt squeezes him a little tighter and rubs up and down his far arm, "Are you feeling at least a little better?"

Blaine inhales Kurt's warm, sweet scent and nods.

Finn walks into the living room holding two mugs, "I couldn't find the hot chocolate mix, so I used Nesquik instead." He sets one mug on the coffee table before Blaine and collapses onto the recliner, magically not spilling the hot beverage on himself. He grabs the remote and flips the TV on, "What do you guys want to watch?"

Blaine just hopes for something distracting so Kurt won't notice when Blaine's temperature steadies and they no longer need to share body heat. Commercial breaks might be his biggest enemy here. "Why don't we put in a movie?"

"Ooh," Finn leaps from his seat, leaving his drink to slosh about the mug on the coffee table, and runs to the backpack near the front door. He yanks out two sweaters before presenting a DVD, "Puck just loaned me this. It's about some crazy surgeon who chops up people and runs experiments on them. Puck said there was so much blood he almost barfed."

"Why would anyone want to watch that?" Kurt asks indignantly, but he's already leaning closer to Blaine, seeking comfort from the mere _idea_ of the film, so Blaine's pretty sure he found a winner.

"That sounds _awesome_!"

Finn smirks at his step-brother, "Two against one."

Kurt glares down at Blaine.

Flaw in the plan! Blaine works his best puppy eyes, "Pretty please can we watch the evil, scary movie?"

The look seems to work as a smile twitches at Kurt's lips, "If I have a nightmare, I'm waking you up."

Kurt coming to him in the middle of the night? Blaine's never heard a less effective threat in his life. "Fair enough."

Finn pops the movie in and plops back in his seat, "This is going to be epic."

For Blaine, it is. By the time the Mad Surgeon (yep, it's actually his name) has sewn a bomb into a woman's chest and sent her home to her family, Kurt's tucked under Blaine's arms, clinging to his side like he's some sort of superhero.

"She's hugging her children," Kurt whimpers, obviously distressed.

"It's okay, Kurt. It's just a movie," Blaine rubs Kurt's back soothingly.

Kurt hides his face in Blaine's neck. Blaine feels his hot breath against his pulse point and almost forgets he's supposed to be comforting.

An explosion rings out of the speakers and Kurt flinches, knowing what just happened. Blaine takes the opportunity to brush a gentle kiss to the top of his head. He lingers for a bit, eyes closed as he savors the moment.

"We don't have to watch anymore, Kurt. We can go up to your room until it's over."

Kurt shakes his head, but doesn't remove it from the safety of Blaine's neck, "It's okay."

Blaine spends the rest of Surgeon From Hell with Kurt's face pressed against him. Best movie ever.

As the credits proudly scroll up the screen, the front door opens revealing Burt and Carole, bundled yet dry.

"The snow finally let up enough for us to come home," Burt announces. "How are you boys holding up?"

"Fine," Finn shrugs.

Blaine sighs at the impromptu weather report, "I guess I should be going, then." Kurt is still pressed warm against him. Blaine really, really doesn't want to move. Curse his manners!

"Absolutely not, Mister," Carole retorts. "You're calling your parents and telling them you're staying the night."

Blaine loves this woman.

"What?" Finn exclaims. "You never let my girlfriends stay the night. How come Kurt's boyfriend gets to?"

Blaine gasps at being referred to in such a way.

Carole crosses her arms, "Quinn lived with us."

"Yeah, but she was all pregnant and mad at me."

"Blaine is _not _my boyfriend!" Kurt corrects, suddenly completely recovered from his cinematic trauma. He's sitting up, not touching Blaine at all, and oh how Blaine already misses him. "We're just friends."

He misses him so much. His own arms wrap around his chest as a poor substitute.

"Really?" Finn seems genuinely surprised. "I just thought-"

"What, Finn? That because we're both gay, we must be all over each other?" Kurt responds bitterly.

"W... But... You were cuddling during the movie!"

"It was scary, Finn. Blaine was just offering comfort, for which I am grateful," Kurt grasps Blaine's knee in appreciation. "Now, I'm going to get some blankets and a pillow to set my_ friend _up on the couch." Kurt takes off in a moderate huff up the stairs.

Blaine's hand migrates to his knee, feeling the warmth where Kurt just touched him.

"Sorry, Dude," Finn mumbles to Blaine. "It wasn't, like, a gay thing, or anything. You guys just seem... Never mind."

"It's okay," Blaine's eyes can't quite meet Finn's.

"Here you go, Sweetie," Carole pats Blaine's shoulder as she hands him the landline. "Do you need anything before we go to bed? A snack? Water?"

"No, thank you."

"All right, good night." She presses a kiss to her son's head and disappears up the stairs.

"Last one up tomorrow does the breakfast dishes," Burt announces as he follows his wife up to their room, "That includes you, Blaine."

"Yes, Sir." Blaine feels a giddy warmth form within him. Kurt's family has included him in a family rule. That's a very boyfriend-like way of being treated.

"Don't worry," Finn grins as he, too, rises to leave. "I'm always the last one up." With that, he ascends the stairs.

Blaine's hand starts to feel heavy, reminding him the phone is there. He dials the familiar number and waits.

A cheery English accent answers, "Anderson residence. May I take a message?"

"Hey, Rose, it's me. Are my parents coming home tonight?"

"No, Master Blaine, they're away on business."

"Of course they are," Blaine sighs. "Well, if one of them happens to show up and wonders where I am, could you let them know I'm waiting out the storm at the Hummels'?"

"Of course, Master Blaine."

"Thank you, Rose."

"Good night, Sir."

Blaine hangs up and suddenly feels _so alone_. The house is quiet, covered in a deafening layer of snow and inhabited by the nearly sleeping. It's cold, colder now that Blaine's alone.

How long does it take to grab a couple of blankets, anyway?

As if in answer, Kurt comes gracefully down the stairs, carrying two pillows, a comforter, and a sheet, all stacked neatly upon his forearms. "Sorry that took so long. _Someone_doesn't know how to properly fold sheets and I had to iron out the wrinkles."

Blaine smiles. Only Kurt would care so much about a few sheet wrinkles. Blaine is just going to wrinkle them in his sleep, anyway.

Blaine stands to help turn the couch into a decent bed, but Kurt is too efficient to be aided. He tucks the sheet around the cushions like half a slip-cover, stacks the pillows where Blaine's head will apparently go, and gently places the comforter on top. "Are you going to be warm enough?"

Blaine can hear so much wonderful caring in that question. Caring for him. "Yes, thank you."

"I'm glad you came, even if it was dangerous and stupid to risk your life like that."

"I'm glad I came, too."

Kurt pulls Blaine into a hug that doesn't last nearly long enough for the older boy.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Kurt grabs a stack of clothes that must have been hidden amidst the bedding.

They're silk pajamas. Kurt's silk pajamas.

"I wish I could say I've never warn them, but I never buy clothing just to sit in my closet. They're clean, though."

Blaine holds them close, "Thank you."

"I also set out a spare toothbrush in the upstairs bathroom. It's blue. Come on, you can get changed in there."

Blaine follows Kurt up the stairs, unable to think of anything aside from sleeping in Kurt's clothing. It's so soft, and will undoubtedly smell of the boy.

"All right, here's the bathroom. I know you've been here before but... Blaine, are you all right? You've been kind of quiet."

Sweet Kurt, he would pick up on something like that. "I think I'm just tired."

"Oh, all right. I guess that drive would be exhausting. Well, good night, then." Kurt pulls the bathroom door closed, leaving Blaine once again alone.

He finally gives into temptation and lifts the pajamas to his nose. They do smell of Kurt: his detergent, his cologne, the air freshener in his house, and just faintly of that sweet scent Kurt just naturally gives off. Heaven. Blaine quickly slides them on and is overcome by the desire to never take them off.

He brushes his teeth knowing that that's the toothpaste Kurt uses, that this is what Kurt's mouth might taste like if they ever kiss.

When Blaine steps out of the bathroom, he can hear Kurt softly humming from his bedroom. He wonders if Kurt does this every night, what he's like getting ready for bed, what it would be like to get ready for bed together.

The music gains instruments as Kurt switches to his iPod. Blaine misses the angelic voice already.

"Dude, if Burt catches you there, you're a dead man," Finn says from his now open door.

Blaine is standing at the threshold of Kurt's room, hand on the door... like a creeper. Excuse! "Oh, uh... Kurt mentioned he might get nightmares. I just wanted to make sure he's okay."

Finn gives Blaine a calculating look. This is no Texas Instrument Calculator of a look, more of a ten-key with the solar panels that distract everyone, but Finn may still be getting information here. "Considering Kurt's not even asleep yet, I think we're in the clear."

Blaine shuts his eyes, "Of course."

"But, hey, if you're really worried, these walls are paper thin and I sleep, like, a foot away from Kurt's head. I'll get you if he says anything about crazy surgeons."

"Kurt talks in his sleep?" Adorable. Wonderful. Perfect.

Finn snorts, "Yeah, Dude. It's hilarious." Not one for the types of manners that prevent one from leaving mid-conversation, Finn turns and thuds down the stairs.

Blaine follows, hoping to hear more about Kurt's sleeping habits... In a totally non-stalker way. "What kind of things does he say?"

"Mostly boring stuff: recipes, thoughts on fashion, arguments for solos. Once, he totally went off on Dream Schue. It was awesome. Hey, you didn't drink your hot chocolate." Finn picks up the full mug.

"I just brushed my teeth," Blaine uses as an excuse.

Finn shrugs, "Kurt doesn't like when I use Nesquik, either."

Another thing they have in common. Or, assumedly, considering Blaine didn't even try it. Kurt probably wouldn't have put that in his body, either, though. Kurt. He would give anything to hear Kurt talk in his sleep, about fashion, food... him. Stop. Friends. Only friends. It's very important to Kurt that they just be friends, so Blaine needs to stop these stupid, stupid thoughts.

But he can still smell Kurt on his clothes and taste his toothpaste, and those thoughts just don't go away so easily.

"You okay, Man?" Finn yanks Blaine back to reality.

"Huh?" Well, not all the way back to reality just yet.

"You've been acting weird."

Great. Is everyone picking up on this, or is this some step-brother super power?

Before Blaine can respond, Finn gets ramble-y, "Listen, if this is about when Kurt thought I was being homophobic, or whatever, I'm not like that. I don't hate you."

"I know," Blaine is quick to reassure. "I know that, Finn."

Finn looks like a weight's been lifted off his shoulders, "Good. Good. So, you're cool, then?"

He tries to nod, to say yes, to give any hand gesture in the affirmative, but his body just refuses to let him lie about this anymore.

Finn catches on, "You know, if you want to talk, I'll listen. I dated Rachel, so I'm really good at it."

Blaine shouldn't. This isn't Finn's problem. The quarterback has enough to deal with without Blaine thrusting lustful thoughts about his step-brother down his throat.

But he's been carrying this around for so long and no one's been willing to listen. He just can't hold it in any longer.

"I'm in love with your brother."

There, it's out there. Oh, God, it's out there.

Finn looks confused, "I thought you guys were just friends."

Blaine swallows down all the pain and sadness threatening to bubble out of him and nods, "So does he."


	2. Chapter 2

_Finn looks confused, "I thought you guys were just friends."_

_Blaine swallows down all the pain and sadness threatening to bubble out of him and nods, "So does he."_

Finn puts the mug of hot (cold) chocolate back on the coffee table where, knowing Finn, it will stay until someone else has the presence of mind of mind bring it to the sink. He drops into the recliner he's dubbed his own barring the presence of Burt and sighs, "Dude, heavy."

Blaine sits neatly upon his makeshift bed, "You're telling me."

"And Kurt has no idea?"

"Not a clue."

"Shit, Man."

"Pretty much."

"Ah, Dude, that speech Kurt made about just being friends must have-"

"Hurt me? Killed my spirit? Obliterated my soul? Yeah."

Finn tries to reassure, "You know Kurt didn't mean to."

"Of course not! Kurt would never hurt me."

Finn is taken aback by the conviction with which Blaine believes in Kurt's character. Sure, Finn likes the guy, but he can see his flaws. Anyone who has to wait an hour for the bathroom can see his flaws, but Blaine just might be blinded to them.

The definition of smitten is sitting in Finn's living room.

"So... uh... what are you going to do?"

"I just have to accept that he doesn't feel the same way," Blaine gives a sad little laugh as how impossible that has been. "Any advice?"

"Well, I don't know. I mean, maybe it isn't hopeless. I never thought I'd get together with Rachel when I really liked her, but I did."

"Why didn't you think it would work out?"

"Because I was dating Quinn at the time."

His tongue even tastes bitter as Blaine delivers his response, "So, you had two people romantically interested in you, and you thought that was comparable to the love of my life being offended by the thought of dating me?"

Finn holds up his hands in surrender, not expecting Scary Blaine, "Dude, I was just trying to help."

"You're right," all passion seeps out of Blaine as he deflates into the cushions, "that was out of line. I apologize."

"It's cool," Finn grins. "Kurt's said worse to me for moving his soy milk."

Blaine smiles gently at the thought of Kurt.

Finn notices, "Why don't you just, you know, tell him?"

"And risk losing him entirely? No chance." This thought has obviously occurred to Blaine before.

"So, you would rather spend the rest of your life lying and never get the chance to be with the person you love than risk a friendship?"

Blaine nods without hesitation, "Correct."

"That's... hardcore."

"Kurt's the most important person in the world to me. I could never lose him." Blaine looks haunted by the mere thought.

"Blaine, Kurt may be dramatic and intense, but he's not a jerk. If you tell him how you feel, he's not just going to walk out of your life. If he doesn't feel the same way, he'll probably just have a lady chat with you and discuss feelings and the future. But there's also a chance he does feel the same way."

Blaine snorts, unable to believe the possibility exists.

Finn frowns, but presses on, "You're an awesome dude, Blaine. You deserve to be happy. I feel the same way about Kurt. Just... think about it."

Blaine bites his lip, trying to squash the traitorous hope he feels filling his chest."

Finn can tell when a guy has been given so much information, any more will just bounce off his ear lobes. He stands, tells Blaine, "I meant what I said. Have a good night," and walks upstairs, forgetting why he'd ever left his room in the first place.

Blaine can't move his eyes from the corner of the coffee table. There's nothing particularly interesting about the wood there; he's just so deep in his thoughts his body is no longer responding.

What if Kurt likes him back?

Could there be a happily ever after? Would Kurt admit he'd been hiding deeper feelings, as well? Would they kiss, then? Would they set a date? Would they immediately 'make it official?' Would they go to prom together?

Would they get married? Or, whatever legal bonding the government saw fitting for them? Would they buy a house, get a dog, have kids?

Would they grow old together?

Or, would Kurt be mad at him for keeping this a secret? Would he hate him, feel their friendship was a lie?

Would everything suddenly be awkward? Would Kurt not want to be alone with him again? Would he make excuses not to hang out, try to always be with other people?

What if he doesn't feel the same way at all? What if they aren't even that close of friends? What if Kurt just puts up with him to be nice? He always visits Kurt, not the other way around. What if he's already destroying this relationship without even adding his true feelings to the mix?

"I can hear you thinking from my room."

Blaine gasps. It's Kurt, standing at the foot of the stairs, watching him. And he's just sitting here, being all weird and staring. And distracting. "I'm sorry! Am I keeping you up?"

Kurt almost laughs, thinking Blaine's playing along, but it's pretty obvious he's not. "I was kidding, Blaine. You know I can't actually sense thoughts... right?"

"Of course. I thought maybe I was talking without meaning to." That's legitimate, right?

"Oh, believe me. I understand that completely. I was just getting some water. Do you want some?"

"No, thank you. I've got this delicious cold, watery Nesquik sludge. I'm good."

Kurt laughs at the sarcasm as he brings the mug to the kitchen. He returns with two glasses of water, because he's perfect like that. He places them both on the coffee table before sitting next to Blaine. "So, I thought you were tired."

Blaine blends a nod and a shrug, "I've got a lot on my mind. Works better than coffee."

Kurt knocks shoulders, "Want to share the load?"

It's an in, but Blaine doesn't take it, "Nah, I think it needs a little more time to marinate before I let it see the light of day."

"All right, well, since we're up, how does another movie sound? I, for one, would not mind erasing the memory of Demon Doctor, or whatever that poor excuse for a movie was called."

"What if your dad catches us?"

Kurt's hand waves dismissively, "Finn and Puck stay up watching movies all the time."

Right. Burt wouldn't have a problem with that, because both relationships are non-romantic. Strictly friendships. Platonic.

Which Blaine would lose if he confessed his feelings.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Mindless happiness. Something I know all the words to so I don't even have to think." Kurt peruses the DVD shelves, one finger at his lips as the other points to titles, "Aha, I think we have a winner. 'When Harry Met Sally.' Romantic comedy classic, sure to warm hearts on even the snowiest of nights."

The plot line plays a little close to home, but if Blaine remembers the ending right, that might not be a bad thing. "Sure, sounds fun."

Kurt puts in the movie and returns to his seat on the couch, a good foot away from Blaine. It's not an unfriendly distance, but Blaine isn't gunning for friendly in the first place.

As the movie progresses, all low volume and soft light flickering in the dark room, Blaine finds himself sleepily leaning to the side. He desperately wants to lean against Kurt, like he did for warmth not three hours ago, but the pillows are safer. He finds himself drifting off to sleep before the on-screen couple ever realizes they belong together.

Just before unconsciousness can completely overtake him, he feels a warm weight settle on top of him. Arms surround him and Kurt mumbles sleepily, "I'm glad you're here, Blaine." Before Kurt can unwrap himself, get up, end this wonderful hug, he falls asleep.

Blaine feels like the luckiest guy on the planet. "I'm glad I'm here, too, Kurt. I love you." Blaine forces himself to stay awake, keeping as still as possible so he won't wake Kurt and have him remember this isn't how 'just friends' sleep, and just basks in Kurt's presence until sleep rudely steals him away.


	3. Chapter 3

Blaine wakes up to the scent of omelettes. It's not a very pleasant scent, warm egg, but then he hears Kurt's voice and it's the best wake-up ever.

"Egg whites only, Dad. Don't let me catch you sneaking yolk in there."

"It's a sad day when a man tries to sneak yolk past his son," Burt complains.

"Well, you can put whatever you want in your coffee as consolation."

"Even egg yolk?"

"That's disgusting, Dad."

"Yeah, well, you see what you have me stoop to? Hey, look who's up!" Burt greets as Blaine stumbles into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Good morning, Sweetheart," Carole smiles. "It looks like you beat Finn up, so you're free from dish duty. Did you sleep well?"

Blaine thinks back on his sleeping arrangement and remembers Kurt. Warm. On top of him. Blaine's eyes go wide.

"Or, perhaps you're still a little bit asleep still?" Carole guesses.

Blaine's eyes rise to meet Kurts' and a blush covers his face.

Kurt bites his lip, "Listen, Blaine, I'm sorry about last night. I didn't know how tired I was and just sort of fell asleep on you... literally. I hope it didn't make you feel uncomfortable."

Blaine is seriously losing the battle with his blush, "It's fine. It's not like you're heavy or anything."

"Why, Blaine Anderson, I do believe that's the first time a man has ever complimented my figure."

Shit. Blaine panics. They finally understand his true feelings and now Kurt is calling him out.

Except, they're laughing and Kurt's asking what Blaine wants in his omelette. Damn, Blaine really does need to wake up.

Oh, yeah, omelette. "Cheese and mushroom, please," Blaine requests after surveying the ingredients on the counter.

"You better tell him if you want yolks in there," Burt advises. "He removes them by default."

"I'm sure I'll like whatever Kurt makes me." Too obvious?

Kurt preens, "For that, you get yolks."

Footsteps thud heavily down the stairs.

"Hey, it's Dish Boy," Burt announces.

Finn attempts to walk into the kitchen. I write 'attempt,' because Finn also chooses this moment to rub not one, but both his eyes, and without the aid of his vision, he actually walks into the doorway. No one mentions anything, and Finn seems unphased. Instead of saying something along the lines of, "Ow," he just responds to Burt, "All right, as long as no one's making turkey bacon again. Bacon's awesome, but the grease is nasty."

"Omelettes," Kurt informs his step-brother.

"Awesome!" Finn perks right up, "I'm gonna' put in pepperoni and that cheese they use on pizza!"

Kurt cooks as efficiently as he makes beds, so Blaine doesn't have time to feel awkward about standing in another family's kitchen (he's pretty distracted by how adorable Kurt is over a stove) before it's time to eat.

"So, what movie were you guys watching last night?" Finn gives Blaine a significant look. Ah. This is Finn's super covert way of asking if Blaine told Kurt the truth yet. It's actually not that poorly played.

Blaine gives his head a tiny shake.

"When Harry Met Sally." It's Carole who answers.

Kurt immediately looks horrified. "I thought the volume was low enough!"

"Oh, you didn't keep me up, Honey. I saw the DVD menu when I came down this morning. It looks like you both tuckered out before the film ended."

"Wait," Finn interjects, "isn't that the movie about the friends who secretly like each other but take, like, a million years to get together?" He rolls his eyes at his step-brother's entertainment choice, but Kurt doesn't notice.

"I refuse to spoil it for you, Finn. I still have hope you'll watch it one of these days," Kurt replies.

Finn figures he'll just watch the live version.

When breakfast ends, the family peeks outside to see it's stopped snowing. Possibly temporarily, they stress to Blaine.

"If it stays clear for the next hour, I'll help you put chains on your tires so you can safely get yourself home," Burt offers.

"Oh, chains don't go on BMWs." Blaine speaks before he thinks, and boy does he sound prissy. Isn't he special, owning a vehicle as expensive as this house, and telling the mechanic about cars. Blaine could smack himself.

"Well, then the BMW doesn't get to drive in the snow," Kurt counters, leaving no room for argument. "My SUV is already winter-ready. I'll drive you home and I can bring you back from Dalton next weekend when the weather clears to pick up your car."

"Whoa, Kurt," Burt protests, "I don't know if I want you out on the road that late when the snow could return any minute."

"I'll be fine, Dad. I know how to drive in the snow, I put the chains on myself, and my car is practically a tank. It'll be much safer than letting Blaine drive his Beemer into a snow bank." Let it never be said that Kurt Hummel is a pushover.

Burt still looks uncertain, but Kurt has yet to run out of ammo, so he just keeps on shooting, "You were perfectly fine letting Blaine drive in that weather. You've said yourself I'm a better driver in the snow than even you. If you're so concerned about it getting dark, I'm sure the Andersons will be just as accommodating as you were last night. I can tell when the weather is turning, and there are towns to pull into all along the highway-"

"All right," Burt holds up his hands in surrender. "If the weather stays clear for the next hour and the forecast is favorable, you can go. But, Blaine, I want updates every fifteen minutes. Do you have my number? Hand me your phone."

Like son, like father.

Blaine complies, the small movement of his hand from the coffee table to Burt the most participation he's had in the plans for his day. It's fine, though. He wouldn't be so in love with Kurt if he had an aversion to following.

He needs to stop having these thoughts around Kurt, or something might slip.

As Burt returns his phone, he gives Blaine a stern look, "And you're sure your parents are okay with him staying over? I don't want him driving if it gets dark."

Wait, Kurt is staying over? When did this happen? Well, considering his parents will more likely be in Eastern Japan than his house tonight, he nods easily, "They won't have a problem with it."

Is Kurt really staying over? Can he get some clarification here?

"Don't worry, it won't be necessary," Kurt seems to think he's reassuring, but he's really not. "Snow driving may be slow, but it certainly won't take until nightfall."

"It took me almost four hours to get here yesterday," Blaine says, mostly to boost his own hope. The drive usually isn't much over an hour.

Finn comes rushing down the stairs like a five-year-old on Christmas morning, dressed in snow gear. His smile is big enough to show all his teeth, "Snow, Guys! This is awesome!"

Blaine's not sure how Finn seems to have just caught onto the weather. He's also not sure when Finn left to get changed, but that's been happening a lot lately; he gets so wrapped up in whatever Kurt is doing, he sort of forgets the rest of the world exists.

He even almost misses what Finn says next. Almost, but not quite.

"We can make forts and have snowball fights and build snowmen. You can use your scarves to dress them up, Kurt, and-"

"We will not be using my scarves on snowmen. And if one snowball hits me, I will burn every one of your ridiculous puffy vests." Kurt quirks his eyebrow in the perfect Threatening Diva expression, then softens, "Aside from that, I'm in if Blaine's in."

Blaine frowns, "I didn't even bring a jacket."

Kurt tisks and waves his hand dismissively, "I've got plenty of winter-wear. It's got to last the whole season, after all." Kurt's already leading Blaine upstairs, so he misses the way Blaine looks like he's won the lottery.

Kurt is offering Blaine his clothes AGAIN. If Blaine is lucky enough, maybe he'll even let him wear them home and keep them for a few days so he can wash them. Maybe if he sneaks a look in the laundry room, he can find out what detergent the Hummels use, so Kurt's clothing won't even lose its smell. Then, Blaine can use that detergent on his _own_clothes-

"Dude," Finn interrupts him from his thoughts, "I think he expects you to follow."

Yep, Blaine's just standing in the middle of the living room, grinning like a bafoon. Can he really not maintain control of himself _at all_ around Kurt? Or, even around where Kurt has recently been? Come on!

He races upstairs, making up time, and arrives just in time to watch an outfit fly through the air and land gracefully upon the bed.

"Oh, there you are," Kurt greets. "I decided to loan you some clothing from last year since I was slightly shorter then, and even though Finn won't be throwing dirty clumps of snow at _me_... Blaine, are you all right?"

"What?" Great, what's he done now?

"Are you uncomfortable being here? I know I sometimes get uncomfortable staying in other people's homes for longer than expected. We can leave now, if you'd like. I'm sure I can convince my dad."

Blaine patiently waits for Kurt to finish before answering, "No, I like it here, actually. It's comfortable."

'Comfortable' doesn't sound like a rich person's way of referring to inferior homes, does it? God, Blaine can be such an unintentionally pompous ass sometimes. He just meant this place feels like a family lives here, but he can't just say that, because that would essentially be screaming that a family doesn't live at his place, and that would be unloading his problems on someone who doesn't deserve them, and hasn't he done that enough already?

Crap, where were they?

Kurt gently squeezes Blaine's shoulder, "I'm glad you're comfortable here. You're always welcome." Kurt releases Blaine (too soon) and turns to the bed, pointing at two thick sweaters, "So, red or blue? I'm guessing blue would look better on you. I only bought the red one because Finn said it was my color. I probably wore it every month that winter." Kurt chuckles privately to himself.

"I think I'll go with the red one," Blaine decides without forming a reason to go against Kurt's advice that doesn't have to do with imagining Kurt in it that often. He opens his mouth and lets one fall out, "Red looks warmer than blue. You know, fire versus ice." He should have relied upon a shrug.

Kurt just smiles, "That's one way to look at fashion." He hands Blaine the red sweater, a black pair of snow pants, and two wool socks knotted together. "You can change in the bathroom again. I still need to pick out my outfit."

Blaine smirks, wondering how long _that_ will take.

"Oh, don't give me that look! I promise to keep it under five minutes; I know we're on a schedule."

Blaine changes in the same room he changed in last night. His sweater and jeans lay as folded evidence on the counter. He should take those clothes and put them in Kurt's car, make sure they go home with him, but if he leaves them behind, there's a chance they'll get washed with Kurt's laundry.

It's the rudest thing he's ever done as a guest, but he leaves his clothes behind.

Kurt meets him in the hall in a stunning ensemble of bright white and deep blue. He stands like he knows he looks amazing, but that's really how he always stands. "Do you think Finn waited for us, or do you think he's aimed and waiting for us potential snowball victims?"

"I think he's making snow angels," Blaine answers honestly.

Kurt smiles fondly at the idea. "Coats are in the closet by the door. I'll let you wear my new down on because it's warmer and I don't want to tempt fate with your health after yesterday."

With all that caring, the jacket feels like a big hug.

Kurt tops both outfits off with ear muffs and caps, and they brave the outdoors.

It turns out, Kurt was right. The second the front door shuts, Blaine is pelted with a snowball to the chest.

Kurt gasps, "Blaine! Are you all right?"

Blaine looks down at the bits of ice clinging to his coat and laughs. Two seconds in and he's already having a blast. "Yeah!"

Kurt turns to scowl at his step-brother, who's hidden poorly behind the mailbox. Unable to bring out the righteous fury for Blaine's sake, he does so for his own, "Do you have any idea how close you came to hitting me?"

"Relax! I'm a quarterback; I could have hit Blaine's nose if I'd wanted to."

"Please don't prove that theory," Blaine requests.

Finn takes pity on his target, instead showing off by hitting Blaine in the exact spot his last shot landed.

Blaine laughs again. He grabs a clump of snow, takes a running start, and aims at Finn. It soars over his shoulder.

Finn smile good-naturedly at the attempt.

Blaine bows his head and would blush if the cold hadn't already colors his cheeks. "I've never done this before."

Finn just shrugs, "Maybe we should stick to snowmen."

Blaine feels like he's missed an opportunity to do something fun his childhood never provided, but it was his fault he failed so quickly, so he can't complain. Maybe the snowmen will be fun.

"You start with a snowball, like this," Finn demonstrates, "and you roll it around in the snow, making it bigger. I'll do the bottom ball, because it's the biggest and I've been doing this pretty much my whole life. You can do the middle part. Hey, Kurt, want to do the head?"

"Already on it," Kurt scoops up snow that seems to no longer offend him and joins the fun.

Blaine's lack of practice means his ends up being the head, but at least he gets to participate, and Finn assures him the head is the most important part. The awkward lump on the top just gives the snowman character.

"He needs a face!" Kurt announces before rushing inside for supplies.

Blaine watches him go.

As the door swings shut, Finn changes the mood dramatically, "Do you think you're going to tell him? It's a long drive."

"And a longer walk."

"Why are you so sure he's going to react badly?"

"How did you react when you found out he was in love with you?"

Finn doesn't say much after that.

**This chapter isn't really my best friend. I don't like how it ends, I'm disappointed in how little the story progresses, and I'm not sure if the character development I sacrificed plot for even comes through. Or, was necessary... For that, the next chapter will be up significantly sooner than planned.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you for all the AMAZINGLY encouraging reviews. I didn't know I sounded so down on myself in my last Author's Note, but it's good I did, because those reviews inspired a whole lot of creative juices, and I actually know how I'm going to end this story, now! I haven't even gotten to the heart of the thing, but it's nice to have a goal. So, yeah, thank you so much! I'm sorry I haven't responded to them yet; work has been crazy, but I will thank everyone individually.

Anyway, this chapter contains the moment I've been writing toward this whole time, so I'm excited to post it!**

Burt gives the news an abnormal amount of attention, looking for any hint the drive to Blaine's might be dangerous.

There are none. Clear skies are assured until next week.

Kurt tries not to look too triumphant as he hugs his dad goodbye.

After offering the mandatory gratitude to his hosts, Blaine follows Kurt to the car.

Kurt hooks up his iPod to the stereo system and hands it to Blaine. It's an immense honor. Everything about this is previous to Kurt: his SUV, his speakers, his iPod, his music. And he entrusts it all to Blaine.

Before the heater has even kicked on, Blaine feels all warm inside.

He goes with the soundtrack to a musical Kurt loves and is rewarded as Kurt sings along.

"I didn't know you liked Les Mis," Kurt comments between the second and third song.

"Neither did I."

"It grows on you," Kurt nods, mistakenly thinking Blaine's seen it.

Blaine decides not to confess his feelings in the car. The confines are too claustrophobic, icy roads are the wrong thing to distract a driver from, and he's still not sure keeping it a secret isn't the smartest choice here. The boy he loves, loves to spend time with him. Why risk that?

He mostly stays silent for the drive, his only communication the regular text messages he sends Burt.

He finally speaks up when they take the exit to his town and he has to direct Kurt to his neighborhood.

"The white one on the left there is my house."

Kurt stops the car in the middle of the (luckily deserted) road and stares, "No."

Blaine doesn't get it, "What?"

"I mean, I knew with that BMW you must be well-off, but... That _mansion_ is your house?"

"Yeah, it's kind of imposing, though I suppose that was the intention. My parents make a lot of money and like to spend it on things they rarely see."

Like Blaine.

Blaine bites his lip, annoyed at how much he just shared.

Kurt just nods, still in awe, "They sure do." He returns his foot to the gas pedal and pulls into the empty driveway.

As Kurt's killing his engine, the garage door opens.

"How did it do that?" Kurt looks as if he might actually believe in magic if Blaine convinces him they paid enough.

"Charles probably heard you pull up."

"Who's Charles?"

Blaine's tempted to say, "Our house-elf," but the truth is close enough... and not condescending. "Our butler."

"You have a butler," Kurt just accepts this, no longer needing confirmation for each aspect of Blaine's rich life.

Kurt pulls into the garage unlike any garage he's ever been in. There are decorations where tools should be, marble flooring where oil-stained concrete usually is, and a chandelier. He's never felt his Baby unworthy of a parking spot before this.

As they step out of the car, the garage door closes and the entry to the house opens.

"Good afternoon, Master Blaine," Charles greets, holding the door open.

"Good afternoon, Charles. This is my friend, Kurt Hummel."

"Welcome to the Anderson Estate, Sir."

"Thank you. Um, please, call me Kurt."

"If you would prefer."

Kurt nods adamantly, "I would."

It never occurred to Blaine to have the staff refer to him just by name. He supposes it would sound silly now, after all these years.

"Master Blaine, Kurt, may I take your coats?" Charles asks as he shuts the door behind him.

Blaine removes his immediately, and when Kurt doesn't spot a coat closet, he does the same with a humorous amount of gratitude.

"Anything you'll be needing, Sir?"

Blaine gives a quick glance to Kurt, realizes he wouldn't know what to ask a butler for, and dismisses Charles, "No, thank you. That will be all."

Charles disappears into the house, with their coats.

"So... want a tour?" It's the least Blaine can do after dropping Kurt into this world.

Kurt looks somewhere between excited and nervous, "Yes. Please."

"All right, follow me." Blaine leads him around the corner.

"Your house has an elevator?" Kurt's back to asking questions, apparently.

"It's five stories high and a lot of our furniture was too heavy to carry up the stairs- Yes. Yes, my house has an elevator."

Kurt laughs, actually laughs, as he steps inside. "I haven't even been in the elevator at the mall."

Blaine presses button #5 and takes them to the top floor, "We'll start at the office. My parents run their own business, so they made the top floor their headquarters."

The doors ping open, and Rose greets them, "Good afternoon, Master Blaine, and welcome, Sir, to Anderson Enterprises."

Blaine's parents aren't the most creative with names (how close is his own to "bland?") but they do know how to make a statement. The office looks like it comes straight out of the 1920s New York Art Deco period.

"He would prefer to be called Kurt," Blaine announces. "Did my parents leave any messages for me?"

"No, Sir, I'm afraid they haven't called back yet."

Blaine bites back his disappointment. He was really hoping he could at least pretend he had a family life in front of Kurt.

"I'm sure Rose is busy. I'll show you the next floor."

As the elevator doors close, Kurt turns a confused face to Blaine, "She was the only one in there."

"She sort of runs the business while my parents are away." Blaine leads Kurt out onto the fourth floor.

"From the top of your house."

"She's a live-in secretary. She actually keeps very busy."

"And where are your parents?"

Ah, that question.

"They are... in... very important meetings."

The rest of the tour serves to distract Kurt from the absence of his family. It really only succeeds in highlighting it.

"And last but not least, here is the Drawing Room. It's right off the entryway we came in, and where we entertain our guests." He says "our guests," but Blaine has never actually had a guest over. He's helped entertain, however, so this shouldn't be too disastrous.

"Care for a drink?" Blaine pours himself a Scotch from the bar as he offers.

Kurt's eyebrows meet his hairline, "Your parents let you do that?"

"They don't care, so long as I don't make trouble." Blaine is going to let Kurt think he's only referring to alcohol consumption.

"No, thank you. I'm going to be driving soon."

Blaine makes his a double.

"Blaine, now that we're seated and you're making yourself comfortable, I'm been meaning to ask... Can we talk?"

Blaine takes a sizable sip of his liquid courage and nods.

Kurt puts his hands over Blaine's and locks eyes, "You've always been there for me, for everything I've needed. I can count on you. I want you to know you can count on me, too."

Blaine can hear the words being spoken to him, but they're difficult to process with Kurt's hands touching him and his beautiful face looking at him. He realizes Kurt's paused, so he nods.

Kurt continues, "You can talk to me. I know something is going on with you, and I'd be a terrible person if I let you keep hiding it. Tell me what's wrong. I'm your best friend."

Friend.

Blaine takes a gulp of his drink. The fact that he doesn't even wince might be sending messages to Kurt's subconscious.

"Blaine?"

"You're my friend."

"Yes," Kurt squeezes his hand, "best friend." He doesn't know Blaine just answered his question.

Oh well. Best not to tempt fate twice. "Can we... not do this? Can we put off the tough stuff, just for a bit, and do something else?"

Blaine doesn't expect him to agree. He expects Kurt to remind him he needs to go and to tell him to call him when he's ready to talk.

Sometimes, Kurt can surprise him. "Okay, what do you want to do?"

The best thing they've done these past two days: "Watch a movie?" And cuddle?

"We can do that. What movies do you have?"

"Can we watch Cinderella?" It's his pick-me-up movie, has been since his fourth birthday landed on his parents' sixth international trip.

Kurt smiles, "The Disney movie?"

"It's fine if you want to pick another movie. I know cartoons are for kids-"

"I _love_ Disney." Kurt might be lying, might just be trying to spare Blaine's feelings, but that would be one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for him, so it's okay. Besides, he could really use his pick-me-up.

It's been a difficult month alone in the house, so Cinderella is already in the DVD player. He just has to power it up, press play, and let animation magic do all the work.

Kurt squeezes his hand, proving he hasn't yet let go. How did Blaine miss that? How was he so nervous he didn't realize Kurt was still holding his hand?

Blaine squeezes back.

Kurt's head comes to rest on his shoulder.

Just friends. Just friends. Just friends.

Blaine drinks until his glass is empty.

The alcohol makes Blaine a bit drowsy. Kurt accommodates him by switching their positions, unhooking their hands so he can wrap his arm around Blaine's shoulders and pull him against his own.

Blaine nuzzles into the familiar warmth and sweet scent.

Kurt chuckles, "Somebody's a cuddly drunk."

"You should have a drink, too, so we can be cuddly together." Oh, no. Stupid move. This will remind Kurt of why he absconded in the first place, that he should be going soon. Or, worse, it will make him uncomfortable, feel pressured-

"We seem to be managing fine."

Blaine sighs. His breath bounces off the side of Kurt's neck, and he can feel just the barest of a shiver. Pleasure. Blaine made Kurt feel good. It was totally by accident, but it happened.

It can happen again. Blaine gently blows a warm stream into the crook of Kurt's neck. There it is again: that delicious hint of a shiver. Perhaps subconsciously, Kurt tilts his head to expose more of his neck to Blaine.

With his movie on the screen and alcohol in his system, Blaine gains courage. Maybe he doesn't have to tell Kurt how he feels in words. Maybe he can just show him. He gently grazes the tip of his nose up the pale skin.

Kurt gasps.

Before he can stop himself, Blaine brings his lips just behind Kurt's ear and presses a kiss where he knows it will feel amazing. Where he wants Kurt to remember _Blaine made him feel amazing_.

"Blaine-"

Blaine uses his tongue, swirling in every sensitive spot he can reach.

Kurt sounds so sad as he pulls away, "Oh, Blaine..."

Blaine throws his arms around Kurt, bringing him back, holding him close, "Don't go." He returns to Kurt's neck, kissing him how he knows Kurt likes it and feeling Kurt's body twitch with pleasure.

"Is this what you couldn't tell me, Blaine? What you've been hiding from me?"

Blaine is surprised by the sniffle and shuddering breath that escape his own body, far too close to crying. He nods against Kurt's neck, presses a kiss to his cheek, and just holds Kurt. Holds him and hopes.

"Blaine, I don't know what to say."

"Please." _Don't hurt me._

"I thought we were just friends."

Blaine shakes his head, fighting to steady his shaking breath.

"Blaine, I'm not good with this stuff. I can never tell when someone's not interested in me-"

"I'm interested in you."

"I don't know how to take 'no' for an answer."

"I'm not saying no."

"Blaine... I can't do romantic relationships."

"I don't need romance. Just, stay. I'll give you anything if you just stay the night."

Kurt stiffens, removes his arm from Blaine's form.

Blaine doesn't know what he did wrong, but he tries to fix it, peppering kisses along Kurt's jaw.

Kurt pushes him away and when Blaine looks up, the anger in Kurt's eyes is enough to keep Blaine from moving toward him again.

"H-How could you?" Kurt is shaking with rage. "I thought... You're my best friend, and you would treat me like a whore?"

What? How? Where is that coming from? That's not what Blaine meant!

Blaine wants to explain, but it's too late. Kurt's already out the door.

"What have I done?"


	5. Chapter 5

Blaine can't move, still reeling from shock, so he's forced to listen to the garage door open, to the Escalade peel out onto the road, to Kurt leaving him.

That's not what he meant. He doesn't think of Kurt as some whore. He loves him.

It's not fair.

He was so close.

When his limbs finally respond, he drags himself to his bedroom, one of the few spots in his house he didn't show Kurt for fear of seeming too forward. As if they were on a date or something. He was so stupid!

He locks his door, hiding away as if anyone would come looking for him.

It's not fair. Just as he feared, opening his stupid mouth lost him Kurt.

Never has he felt so alone. Not on the Hummels' couch, not this past month in the empty mansion, not on his fourth birthday. He's never been as alone as he is now that Kurt's left him.

He doesn't deserve to wear these clothes. These are Kurt's clothes, and Kurt hates him now, so he's lost the right to wear them.

He undresses, but as he holds the snow pants, sweater, socks, ear muffs, and cap bundled in his arms, he finds he can't bring himself to part with them.

These very well may be his last pieces of Kurt.

He collapses to his bed and hugs the clothing to his chest.

He lost him. The most important person in his world, and he lost him, all because he was too stupid to keep his secret to himself.

It's not fair.

He falls to his pillows and buries his face in Kurt's clothes. That smell. Kurt may hate him, but Blaine still loves him, so that smell...

Blaine starts to sob.

He can't help it, and there's not reason to stop it anymore.

Kurt's gone.

Kurt bursts into the Hummel home with tears streaming down his anger-tightened face.

Before anyone can ask what happened, he sternly commands, "I don't want to talk about it. Please leave me alone," and stomps up to his room.

Carole sighs as she lifts herself from the couch, "I'll warm up the milk."

"No," Finn lays his hand on his mother's arm, looking like he's mulling something over in his mind before nodding at his own decision. "I've got this."

Carole sits back down and she and Burt share a smile. They've been working to get a brotherhood going between their sons, standing back and letting the boys forge the relationship, so when Finn goes and volunteers to comfort Kurt, they certainly aren't gong to stand in the way.

Finn has a rubber handball. It's names Blinky, but only because he's had it since he was six and six-year-olds are allowed to name... anything. It's got a smiley face drawn in Sharpie, a chunk missing from when Puck tossed it off his roof, and it bounces off walls really well. Over and over. With a resounding thud every time.

Kurt doesn't even knock before bursting into the room.

Finn isn't exactly caught off guard, "Hey, Kurt!"

"Stop it."

"Stop... greeting you?"

Kurt takes a menacing step forward, "I know you're doing it on purpose, though I fail to see why you would torment me when I am so obviously on edge."

"Huh?"

"Stop. Bouncing. That. Ball. Off. My. Wall."

"Ohhh! That's right, your room's right there. I always forget there's something on the other side of that wall."

"There is _always_ something on the other side of walls, Finn!"

"I'm just used to playing with other people, someone to catch and throw it back. No wall required."

Kurt just blinks at him, so Finn makes it more obvious.

"If you play with me, I'll stop bouncing the ball off your wall."

Kurt rolls his (red, puffy) eyes, "As sly as it is, I'm not falling for your game."

"Suit yourself," Finn shrugs, and bounces the ball off Kurt's wall.

Kurt bristles at the sound. "Fine," he seats himself on Finn's bed, in front of his target wall, and holds up a cupped palm in preparation to catch.

Finn gently lobs Blinky and Kurt catches it easily.

He doesn't return it.

"Dude, you would suck at Hot Potato."

Kurt sighs, "You obviously want to talk about what upset me, so let's just skip this ridiculous sports metaphor and get to it. Blaine and I had a fight."

"That sucks. I get it, Puck and I have those all the time."

"Not like this, you don't."

Finn has a sinking feeling he knows what's behind this fight, but he can't dwell on that. If he does, it will show on his face, and for this comforting thing to work, Kurt can't know he knew Blaine's secret first... and kind of, sort of, maybe convinced Blaine to share it.

"Finn, last year, when... you know?"

Finn does, because that's always how they refer to Kurt's crush on him and Finn's subsequent blow-up: 'Last year, when... you know.'

At Finn's nod, Kurt continues, "Did I ever make you feel... cheap?"

Okay, Finn wasn't expecting that one. Roll with it. "No, Man. The opposite. You kind of worshiped the ground I walked on."

Kurt blushes, still embarrassed about how intensely obvious his feelings were.

"So... did Blaine make you feel cheap?"

Kurt looks down at Finn's comforter, tracing the brown and green patterns, "Apparently not all Blaine's feelings toward me are strictly... platonic."

Finn does an admirable job of keeping a blank face, "Yeah?"

"Yeah. And tonight, he... said he'd give me anything if I would spend the night with him."

Finn's jaw drops, "Are you serious?"

"Those were his words."

So much for the starry-eyed romantic from the night before. So much for pure love for Kurt. So much for Blaine doing everything in his power not to lose Kurt's friendship. That horndog!

Kurt sniffles, "He was my best friend. I thought... I thought he..." He trails off, face unable to decide if he wants to finish his sentence or just cry. Kurt gasps when the bed dips beside him. He looks up to see Finn, wide-eyed with worry. "He... He treated me like a whore."

Finn gently wraps his arms around Kurt.

"I'm not a whore."

His grip tightens, "I know."

"Why... Why would he treat me like one?"

Finn can only be honest, "I don't know."

Blaine wakes up freezing. He tries to burrow into warmth but can find none. When his body shivers, he finally decides to take stock of his situation and open his eyes.

He's in just his underwear. On top of his covers. Surrounded by winter-wear.

It all comes tumbling back to him: how he lost Kurt.

Maybe if he just lies here, he can freeze to death and let it all be over.

Let Kurt forever think he only ever wanted him for his body.

No. Blaine can't let that happen. He needs Kurt to know the truth. He has to at least try before giving up completely.

And the sooner, the better.

Blaine throws on an outfit, warmer than the one he put on the last time he headed for Lima, and his heart fills with hope.

Maybe, if he gets to Kurt soon enough, if he explains himself well enough, things don't have to be so bad. Things don't have to be over.

Maybe, they can just pretend this never happened.

He rushes to the underground parking garage, grabs one of the dozens of keys at random (the Lexus beeps in answer to the button on the key chain), and races toward Lima.

He leaves his self-preservation instincts in the driveway. It's by some sort of miracle he doesn't hit a patch of black ice (or a highway patrolman's radar range), because at 90 miles per hour, there'd be nothing to save him. He makes it to Lima in forty minutes.

Blaine knows Kurt's at his dad's shop. He works there every Friday he has off from school since it's the busiest day. Blaine knows Kurt's schedule like he knows the lyrics to every Katy Perry song and the ingredient list to the best hair gels. Kurt's his life.

He can't lose that.

He pulls into the closest space to the garage entrance and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees they're open. He has no idea what time it is.

He doesn't even lock his car before rushing toward the entrance.

Before he can enter, though, Finn appears, inadvertently blocking the way. Blaine wasn't expecting to see Finn here, but that's inconsequential. He needs to see Kurt.

Finn, however, is obviously immensely surprised to see Blaine, "What are you doing here?"

"I need to speak with Kurt," Blaine tries to move around him.

Finn doesn't let him, "I don't think so."

"It's important," Blaine doesn't even try to hide the desperation rising in his voice.

"You lost that privilege yesterday."

Blaine's taken aback. What does Finn know?

"Trying to pay him to sleep with you, Dude? Dumb move."

So he knows everything, then. "Finn, you don't understand-"

"I understand my brother's hurt and you caused it."

He's hurt. Oh, God, he's hurt. Of course he's hurt; he left hurt. Blaine needs to fix this. He tries to push past Finn, but Finn easily puts a hand to Blaine's chest and moves him back.

"Please, it was a misunderstanding! I didn't mean it that way! I would never intentionally hurt Kurt!"

Finn doesn't move out of the way, but he does remove his hand from Blaine's sweater, "Explain it to me."

"I just wanted him to stay, to spend more time with me. It had nothing to do with s-sleeping with him. I just didn't want him to leave me. Please, I have to tell him before it's too late."

"How can I be sure you're telling the truth?" The question doesn't come from Finn. Blaine turns, peeks around the tall teen to see Kurt a few meters behind him. He looks sad, confused, and so vulnerable Blaine wants to protect him from the world.

Blaine locks eyes with him, "You're my best friend."

Kurt lowers his gaze to the ground and bites his lip.

Blaine holds his breath, waiting.

Kurt turns away, and Blaine almost cries before Kurt speaks, "We can talk in my dad's office."

Blaine's sigh is shaky and filled with too much emotion for him to trust himself to contain, but when Finn steps aside, Blaine sprints to that office door.

Kurt's standing in front of the desk, arms over his chest, looking like... he might actually hear Blaine out.

"I don't think you're a whore," probably isn't the best way to start, but it's what comes out and at least it's the truth.

"So, you weren't trying to sleep with me?"

"No! I just wanted to spend more time with you, that's all."

"You were kissing me when you asked me to stay."

Blaine's pretty sure he's not going to like where this conversation goes, "...Uh-huh."

"I was just supposed to think those were unrelated?"

"I know it was stupid-"

"Do you want to have sex with me?"

"What?" Blaine blanches, because _what_?

"_Do you want to have sex with me_?" Kurt enunciates every syllable, like he's not just laying it all on the line, calling Blaine out on his deepest feelings.

Blaine mulls his response over in his mind, because this could be a game-ender. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't. But, that's such a small part of it! There's so much more that I want!"

"What do you want, Blaine?"

It's such a simple question, with so much potential for pain.

"In a perfect world?"

"What about a perfect world?"

Blaine sighs, shaky and loud, "In a perfect world, I'd be able to know what it's like to... hold your hand? Take you on a date? Kiss you? You'd let me feel what it's like to be your boyfriend, just for a day. Just for one day. One day where you're mine?"

Kurt just stares back at him, jaw slack and face unreadable.

Suddenly, Blaine feels way too exposed. He's said too much, scared Kurt off. "Say something?"

It's at this moment, this completely inopportune moment, that Burt decides to shout from somewhere on the other side of the garage, "Why the hell isn't the carburetor replaced in this Camry? Kurt, where are you?"

Kurt turns toward his father's voice, toward the exit. "I should go."

And, that's it. Blaine's put himself all out there, and Kurt's just going to walk away.

Except, Kurt turns back, and there's something reassuring in his expression when he asks, "So, I'll see you at school?"

Blaine's too shocked to answer at first, choking on his own words before he can form, "Yeah."

Kurt nods and walks out of the office.

Blaine holds onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, things aren't all over for them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for all the amazing reviews! They make my heart happy.**

When Blaine first sees Kurt back at Dalton, it's at lunch, and Kurt's sandwiched between Wes and David.

Blaine tries not to think of all the scenarios he imagined might happen if he told Kurt of his feelings, like the one about Kurt protecting himself from Blaine's advances by spending time with _other_ people, but of course they all come flooding back.

The seat across from Kurt is empty, and Blaine hesitates before taking it, meeting Kurt's eyes.

Kurt smiles up at him, "Hey, Blaine! How were classes? Did Professor MacDonald make good on his promise to give a test on your first day back?"

His response is slow, like he's warming up to it. "Oh, yes he did, and I'm sure half the class failed, but the rest of the day wasn't so bad." Blaine puts down his tray and sits before it. "How about you?"

"Well, in Chemistry, my idiot lab partner got God knows what on my brand new sweater, and Professor Potter wouldn't let me try and salvage it- Well, you know how he is, Blaine; you've had him. Anyway..."

And, just like that, they're back. Kurt's giving him a second chance. He's acting as if Blaine never royally screwed it all up, and Blaine's never felt so grateful.

He feels like he could sing, dance, leap across the furniture. Okay, so those aren't long shots to begin with. He feel like he could float if he tried hard enough. He feels light, warm, like... like Kurt Hummel's best friend.

After a weekend of not having that feeling, Blaine knows it's enough for him.

It has to be. He can't get more.

When lunch is over, Kurt grabs Blaine's hand and requests, "Walk me to History?" They've always walked together to History, and though it's new that Kurt's putting it in words, it's nice he's offering to stick to an old routine.

In class, they pass notes, just like they've always done. It starts with, "I've watched you not take notes for ten minutes, Blaine. How are you supposed to be a good study partner if you don't know the material? :-P," and end up with, "If he curls his mustache anymore, it will become nose hair." It's just like old times. An uninjured friendship.

Blaine is so thankful to Kurt for allowing them this, allowing _him_ this, that he can't put it into words.

He tries to put it into actions.

He gets him coffee the following morning before class. Kurt is touched Blaine remembers his order. It becomes a daily routine. He carries Kurt's books between classes so they don't wrinkle his uniform. He grabs Kurt's lunch for him, since Kurt's math professor always keeps them after the bell, so Kurt doesn't have to wait in line before eating. He buys Kurt the new album he's been excitedly anticipating (before it's available on iTunes, but it's totally no big deal).

He's the perfect friend, proving to Kurt that he's worthy of the second chance. He has to be. He needs it too much.

His high from having Kurt's friendship back makes the loneliness at home easier to handle.

Even upon waking up on Saturday morning to face a weekend without any human contact, Blaine's smiling. He goes down to the breakfast table to find an omelette hot and waiting for him. It's cheese and mushroom, just like the one Kurt made him just over a week ago. He's had his cook prepare it for every breakfast since, at first as a way of connecting with the boy he thought he'd lost, and then as a way of rejoicing the boy who still wanted him in his life.

He eats it hungrily, filling a craving, and then retires to the Drawing Room. Cinderella is scrubbing floors within minutes.

As the mice are being transformed into horses, Blaine hears a car coming up the driveway. His heart skips a beat. Could his parents be home? Rose didn't mention an update in their itinerary, but his parents have been known to display spontaneity. Instead of hearing the car turn down toward the underground car park, like he expects, he hears the car stop before the guest garage.

Perhaps they took a taxi.

Blaine doesn't want to wait for Charles to let them in. Whenever his parents return from extended trips, they always shower him with lavish gifts. Besides, he hasn't seen them since shortly before Thanksgiving, and he could really use the comfort of their presence right now.

He races to the door and presses the button to open the garage. Pulling the door open, Blaine watches the car slowly become revealed, tires up,

Only, it isn't a taxi.

It's an Escalade.

The SUV pulls forward, parks, and Kurt hops out, "I thought you had staff for this," he quips, indicating Blaine's arm holding the door open.

"You came to visit," Blaine smiles. There's only one person in this world who can make discovering his parents haven't actually come home not a crushing disappointment.

"Well, of course I did," Kurt saunters forward. "I always visit my boyfriend on the weekend."

The world stops turning. Stars pause mid-twinkle. Blaine doesn't breathe.

Kurt steps in close so Blaine can hear him whisper, "You're always there for me, Blaine. You've given me everything I could want, and this is all you've ever asked of me. I want to give this to you. For today, just one day, I'm your boyfriend."

Blaine doesn't know how to respond, but tears are pretty high on the list. Is this really happening?

Kurt steps back a bit and grabs Blaine's hand, "Come on, Honey. Let's go inside; it's freezing."

Kurt presses the garage door closed as he guides Blaine into the house, like he's done this before, a hundred times. Like Kurt, Blaine's boyfriend, comes over all the time.

They end up in the Drawing Room, possibly because it's the only room Kurt can get to confidently, though the fact that it's the only room with the lights on might also have something to do with it.

"Awe, your favorite movie. I love this part; do you want to watch it together?" Thankfully, Kurt doesn't wait for an answer. Blaine's surprised his feet work and this point - words are lightyears beyond him.

Kurt sits them both on the couch and presses play. He then scoots toward Blaine, wraps an arm around his waist, and pulls Blaine's head to his chest. It's here, with Kurt sweater clutched in his hand and Kurt's fingers in his curly hair, that Blaine sobs. Big, aching, uncontrollable sobs.

"Shh, it's okay, Blaine. It's okay," Kurt pets him through it, comforting without making a fuss.

When Blaine captures enough control over his own lungs, he gasps out, "I love you."

Kurt leans forward and kisses his forehead. Blaine leans into the touch, soaking up the feeling. It's exactly what he's always wanted.

He wraps his arms around Kurt, hugging him tightly, and nuzzles under his chin. Perfection. He never wants to leave.

Blaine closes his eyes and listens to Kurt's heart beat in his chest, air enter and exit his lungs, the adorable gurgles in his stomach. The things that keep the boy he loves alive. He falls in love with each sound.

Kurt presses a kiss to the top of Blaine's head and whispers, "Look, it's your favorite part."

Blaine doesn't know how Kurt knew that, but he's right. Cinderella and her Prince Charming dance across the screen, completely wrapped up in their single night of enchantment. He's always loved this scene, but never has it made him smile this wide.

He holds Kurt just a little tighter, "Thank you for this."

Another kiss lands in his hair, "You deserve everything."

He's not going to cry again. He's not going to taint what little time he has. He's going to cuddle and watch the rest of this movie. With his boyfriend.

"So," Kurt speaks up as the credits roll, "I've been thinking of that little Italian place by the highway. What do you think, late lunch?"

The "little Italian place by the highway" is an Olive Garden, and Blaine's own chef makes food ten times better than even their most expensive dishes, but that's not the point. Kurt's asking him out. On a date. "That sounds fantastic."

Kurt smiles, "Great." He grabs Blaine's hand and together they rise from the couch. Kurt starts to pull toward the guest garage but Blaine leads him to the elevator, to the underground parking area.

"I'm driving."

"But, I asked you out," Kurt playfully argues.

"Yeah, but I'm paying."

"Oh, is that how that works?"

"It is, in fact."

This time, Blaine takes his time picking out their vehicle. He wants it to be perfect.

He decides on the Lamborghini.

Kurt's eyes go wide and starry at all the expensive cars lined up before him, his mechanic senses tingling, but Blaine knows he's chosen correctly when the Lamborghini actually makes the boy squeal. As Kurt sits in the passenger seat, his hands go flying about the vehicle, touching, feeling, experiencing the hand-stitched interior, the well-maintained leather, the Italian engineering.

Blaine grabs one of those hands in his own. It's the first time he's ever felt he's had the right to do so, to initiate holding Kurt's hand, and he halts his breath as he waits for Kurt's reaction.

Kurt squeezes back enthusiastically, "I can't believe you're taking us in this!"

"Well, this is a very special occasion."

"Oh?"

"Every moment with you is a very special occasion." And, that might have been too intense, so Blaine quickly follows it up with, "Hey, if you don't crinkle your nose at my dessert, I might even let you drive."

Kurt's eyes widen comically, "You eat all the tiramisu you want!"

When the boys step out of the car in the Olive Garden parking lot, Kurt grabs Blaine's hand in his own. In public. The gesture is small and done with such ease one might think it a daily occurrence, but Blaine will be replaying this moment in his mind for years to come.

Kurt holds the door open for him, so when they reach the restaurant-standard inner door, Blaine holds it for Kurt. He may be putting way too much meaning into a door handle, but it seem so sweet and couple-y to Blaine.

Kurt's hand slips back into Blaine's as he announces, "Table for two," to the hostess.

Said hostess ('Debbie,' according to her name tag) looks up with a big smile, but the smile wanes when she notices the boys' joined hands.

Blaine tries to slip out of Kurt's grip, not wanting any trouble on such an important day, but Kurt holds tight. He stares down the hostess, daring her to say something with his eyes.

Debbie's no fool. Her (fake, cheesy) grin returns as she grabs their menus. "Right this way!" She stutters through the specials.

"The nerve of some people," Kurt groans to Blaine when Debbie is possibly still close enough to hear.

Blaine just smiles at him from across the table, "My hero."

The words calm Kurt instantly. "She has on way too much make-up, so her opinion is invalid anyway."

Blaine orders the Four Cheese Ziti Al Forno and has the waiter grate even more cheese on top. He waits for Kurt to say something from behind his fat-free soup and side salad (perhaps regarding constipation or cellulose), but the other boy doesn't even bat an eye. He must really want behind the wheel of that Lamborghini.

They chat through their meal like they always do, about fashion and TV and politics with an ease gained through months of close friendship. But, that means it feel like friendship. Blaine wants to re-establish for himself that this is a date, that Kurt's his _boyfriend_ today, so when he finishes his tiramisu, he reaches across the table and grasps Kurt's hand. Somehow, this feel different than all the other times they held hands today. It took more effort, is more noticeable, and since they're facing each other, it's more intimate.

Kurt's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Blaine's heart falls. Kurt has obviously already forgotten the temporary change to their relationship and now Blaine's just made him uncomfortable.

Blaine's about to pull his hand back when Kurt laces their fingers together, giving an affectionate squeeze. "So, what's next?"

"Next?"

"On our date! We can't just stay at the Olive Garden all day."

And, all is right with the world again. They're on their date. They have all day. Blaine has all day with his boyfriend. He racks his brain for what his mostly suburban hometown has to offer, "Well, there's always a movie, though we may have run that one into the ground. Hey, we have a mall," Blaine indicates Kurt with his free hand, knowing malls are kind of Kurt's thing.

Kurt smiles, "A mall?"

"Yeah! We could go shopping, try on clothes, eat those hot dogs that come on sticks."

"But, you hate the mall!"

"...Do I?"

"Yes!" Kurt laughs. "I believe your exact words were 'malls are where society goes to rot on Orange Julius.'"

True, Blaine did say that, and it's true he feels that way, but he feels he shouldn't be held accountable for statements made before he fell in love with Kurt. A mall would make Kurt happy, and for that, Blaine would love it.

Blaine signs his receipt, leaving a generous tip, and they are released from their table. Kurt rises first and grabs Blaine's hand. It's the best feeling in the world, and Blaine really hopes he keeps the habit up.

"Come on," Kurt tugs until Blaine rises, "I'm sure we'll find something."

On their way out, Kurt gives Debbie and pointed look and Blaine proudly holds on tight.

As soon as they step outside, Kurt gasps excitedly and starts running toward their car... and then passes it. Blaine's pretty sure Kurt didn't just _miss_ the bright yellow Lamborghini.

"Kurt?" Blaine questions, continually picking up his pace to keep up with the long-legged boy.

"Look!" Kurt points across the street before checking for traffic and darting into the crosswalk.

Blaine looks. It's a park. Or, in warmer weather, it's a park. For now, it's a large blanket of snow from which trees stick out, naked and shivering in the wind.

Kurt heads straight for the play structure, half buried in winter, on the nearest corner. Blaine slows, so Kurt un-links their fingers and rushes in, undeterred. He crunches right up to the swing set, as if snow isn't biting at his ankles, and, shoving on his gloves, he wipes a seat clear.

"Kurt, what are you doing?" Blaine's confused, but he's mostly entertained, so he laughs.

Kurt removes the snow from the next swing and sits down, "Come on!"

With that smile on that face, who is Blaine to resist? By the time he gets to his swing, Kurt is already pumping his legs, gaining momentum.

Blaine sits, enjoying the bouncy buoyancy, and moves the snow beneath him with his shoes.

"Let's see how high we can go!" Kurt sounds six years-old, but perhaps that what childhood memories do.

Blaine looks down at the design his toes have made, "I've never..." This is so humiliating. He has to be the only person in the country who's never been on a swing.

But, Kurt doesn't laugh at him. "Just do what I'm doing. Back and forth."

He's going to look ridiculous, but they're already seventeen year-olds on a swing set, so what the Hell? He tosses his legs out in front of him, tucks them under, and repeats.

"That's it," Kurt coaches as he soars by. "Now, lean with your legs. Good, and back. See? It's working. A little slower... I think you've got it!"

And he has. For the first time in his life, he's swinging, and it's exhilarating. The wind rushes by, gravity pulls in new ways, and at the tops of the arc, he feels completely weightless. If he's giggling, he can just blame his inner child.

He closes his eyes, feels like he's flying, and wonders how much cooler this would have felt when he was a kid.

When he opens his eyes, he finds Kurt is no longer swinging. He's just sitting in his stilled seat and watching Blaine enjoy himself.

Blaine drags his feet through the snow, the only form of breaks he can think of, and comes to a stop on his third pass. "That was amazing!"

"You got higher than me!"

This honestly surprises Blaine. "Did I win something?"

"If I remember elementary school correctly, I believe you are now King of the Playground."

Blaine surveys his territory proudly, then turns back to Kurt, who's just... smiling at him. He grasps Blaine's bare hand in his own gloved one, and until that moment, Blaine didn't realize how cold it was. He squeezes back, letting Kurt warm him.

A car pulls up to the red light next to them. Its windows are rolled up, but the lyrics on the radio are clear.

_"...you make me smile_

_Please stay for a while now_

_Just take your time_

_Wherever you go"_

The boys lock eyes, and the moment is absolutely perfect.

Blaine licks his lips, nervous about what he's going to say but unable and unwilling to stop himself. "Kurt... may I kiss you?"

Kurt looks surprised for only half a second before schooling his expression. He takes a deep breath before shakily nodding, "Yes."

Blaine leans in, and so does Kurt, and when their lips touch, it's every bit as magical as Blaine had dreamed. Kurt tastes sweet, with just a hint of Italian spice, and he's warm and soft and kissing back with just as much passion as Blaine.

It's everything Blaine could have wanted for a first kiss.


	7. Chapter 7

*I forgot the name of my story, Guys. I stared at the subject bar Uh-ing for a while before it finally came to me. I was thinking of changing it anyway, to A Perfect World, but that's not the point. The point it, it's been way too freaking long since I've updated. I'm really sorry! This story was difficult to write, and my mental wrecking ball wasn't helping the writer's block as much as it usually does. BUT, this chapter is done, and I've already started on the next one. Hopefully, chapters will be coming more steadily from now on.*

When their lips separate, the happy spell cast upon Blaine shatters. He can't open his eyes. If he does, he's going to see Kurt's reaction to all this. Kissing made the day real, so this is when Kurt's going to back out. He'll be taking Blaine's heart with him.

A bare hand cups Blaine's cheek, caressing gently, convincing Blaine's eyes to pop open. There are Kurt's gloves, between his knees, removed so Kurt could touch skin to skin.

And Kurt's smiling at him. There's no hint of regret in his eyes.

Blaine breathes, not even realizing he stopped. He reaches up to press against Kurt's hand on his face.

Kurt gasps, "Blaine, your hands are freezing!" He pulls away.

_'Don't go...' _

"Come on," Kurt tugs Blaine from his swing by their still-joined hands.

_'But...'_

Kurt lets go of his hand and removes his other glove, then slides both on Blaine's numb fingers. "Let's get you to the car to warm up."

Blaine nods, "Okay."

As they step into the Olive Garden parking lot, Kurt holds out his palm, "Keys."

"What?"

"Oh, I'm driving now," Kurt announces all haughtily, self-assured, amazing. Blaine has an intense desire to kiss him again. He hands over the keys instead.

As Blaine buckles in on the passenger side, a thought occurs to him, "You do know how to drive a stick, right?"

Kurt's hands fly to his hips, something he's somehow able to accomplish between the steering wheel and car seat, as he levels a glare Blaine's way, "Blaine Anderson, I have been a mechanic since age four. I can_ build _a stick-shift."

Blaine very much doubts Kurt knows the effect he's having, but seeing the boy so confident and radiating attitude makes Blaine really want to see him build that stick-shift. In greasy coveralls, with mussed hair and sweat dripping down his forehead. Blaine quickly swallows to avoid any saliva-on-shirt-based humiliation.

Kurt starts the engine and moans, actually moans. Blaine's about to complain (internally, of course), that Kurt is an awful tease when Kurt turns his beaming face in his direction. He just looks _so happy_ to be able to drive this thing. Blaine navigates him through the longer way home.

With the Lamborghini safely in its parking space, Blaine heads toward his elevator, but feels Kurt holding back. He turns to see Kurt biting his lip nervously.

"Umm, can I...?"

Blaine isn't sure what Kurt's asking until he sees his eyes darting between sports cars and luxury vehicles.

"Go ahead," Blaine chuckles, "they're all unlocked."

Kurt rushes straight for the Aston Martin and gently lowers himself into the driver's seat. His fingers dance over the steering wheel. "I feel like James Bond."

"You should come back when it's warm enough to wear a suit."

Kurt steps out of the vehicle, a realization bright in his eye, "Well, what would you like to do next?"

"Oh, you can keep-"

The Aston Martin shuts firmly.

Blaine blushes. Kurt's letting him lead again, through their date. "Have... you ever played billiards?"

"That's like pool, right? Because I haven't done that, either."

"That's okay. I'll teach you." Blaine holds out his hand, a silent plea for Kurt to take it.

Kurt does, swinging their arms playfully as they enter the elevator. Blaine takes them down two long halls on the third floor, to the Billiards Room.

"This cue is about your height."

Kurt accepts the stick, then grabs from the rack one about half its size, "_This_ is adorable."

The blush returns to Blaine's cheeks. Had it even left? "I've been playing since I was seven."

"Really?"

"Yeah, that was about the time I discovered ESPN, saw a special, and decided to teach myself."

"Then, you must be very good."

Oh, a compliment. Blaine could last days without food on just one of Kurt's compliments.

"So," Kurt surveys the table, "I know there are balls involved."

"You are right," Blaine grabs the set and lays them on the table. "This white on here," Blaine sets the ball on the opposite side of the table as the rest, in front of Kurt, "is the cue ball. You hit it with the tip of your cue stick, into the other balls."

Kurt eyes his stick dubiously, already knowing they won't make an effective pair.

"Don't worry," Blaine chuckles endearingly, "I'll teach you." He steps behind Kurt and lifts the cue stick from him. He holds it out in front of them, letting it hover over the felt-covered table. "You grip here," Blaine places Kurt's fist, "and put your other hand on the table like this." Kurt's fingers are far more adept with piano keys and sewing needles, but Blaine is able to shape the confused digits and rests the stick atop them. "Smooth strokes, back and forth. Back... and forth..."

So, Blaine's never realized how sexual this game is until this moment, watching Kurt pump the impressive phallic object through his grasp. It certainly wasn't his intention to be mimicking such an act, and now that he really takes notice of their position, leaning over the table, Blaine's front pressed against Kurt's back, this is suddenly no longer about billiards.

The realization hits with such force, Blaine's nerves ignite in an icy inferno, resulting in a full-body flinch against the boy before him.

Startled, Kurt faults in his stroke and sends the cue ball crashing into its brethren. The ceramic explosion has both boys jumping apart.

The moment's over and Blaine fights to gain control of his breath. Seeing Kurt, flushed and panting mere feet away doesn't help, so he locks his sight on their infant game for a distraction. He finds one, and a blossom of pride blooms in his chest. "You got one in."

Kurt swallows audibly before nodding, possibly in agreement, possibly just acknowledging that Blaine spoke.

"I," Blaine's voice comes out raspy and deep, so he clears his throat before trying again. "I think you've got it." It's a lie. No one gets billiards in one shot, no matter how lucky it may be. Kurt hasn't even learned the rules yet, a lot less perfected a smooth stroke, but now that they've broken apart Blaine can't bring himself to return to their former position. The mood is all wrong, the temptation too great.

He can't surprise Kurt with romance, can't feel like he's sneaking up on him.

"Blaine?"

"Hmm?"

"I asked if I get to go again."

"Oh! Yes, you do. Go ahead and try to get a striped ball in a pocket." Blaine doesn't bother with the rules about hitting the cushions or calling shots. This is for fun, and Kurt's shouldn't be so hindered on his first time.

Kurt mis-cues, sending the white ball about four inches to the left into dead green. Blaine lets him try again.

The cue ball taps a solid on its race for the corner pocket. Blaine doesn't mention to penalty for that, either.

They end up playing for hours, and through some generous charity Blaine will never admit to, Kurt even wins a game. Kurt never becomes particularly good, but he's smiling and laughing and enjoying himself, so what else could matter?

When Blaine was young, spending hours alone in this room, he used to imagine sharing the game with someone. Anyone. This far surpasses any of those daydreams.

Kurt inhales deeply through his nose, "Mmm, what is that?"

Blaine turns toward the vent and takes a whiff, "Smells like dinner is almost ready."

"Let me guess: you have a personal chef?"

"Yes, and she's fabulous," Blaine defends. "You are about to have the meal of your life."

"Wait, but what about the game?"

"Let's just say you win."

Kurt still has four balls left and Blaine's about to go after the eight. The young Hummel does not look impressed.

"No, seriously. I'm the one forfeiting the game, so you win by default." Blaine returns his stick to the rack.

Kurt follows suit. "I don't think so, Mister. We are coming back here and finishing up fair and square."

Blaine laughs, "If you insist."

"Oh, I do." Kurt follows Blaine back to the elevator (It's quite possible he's never going to be able to navigate this home on his own.) and finds his hand once again in Blaine's grasp.

Kurt swings their arms playfully until he feels Blaine's head land on his shoulder. Kurt stills in the face of the sudden change in mood. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and tentatively leans his cheek into Blaine's hair.

Blaine stops breathing. This is so intimate, so romantic, so something boyfriends would do. He doesn't want the moment to end. This is, of course, when the elevator doors open. Dinner awaits. The last thing Blaine wants to do is make Kurt uncomfortable, and standing in an open elevator would be just awkward enough to do that.

"It smells like lamb with mango chutney," Blaine leads to the Dining Room and Kurt follows obediently. "It's one of my favorite dishes."

The staff has truly outdone themselves. Two plates, still steaming, are placed across the table from each other, separated by a fresh floral centerpiece and two lit candles, which provide the only light for the room. Blaine isn't sure how any of them knew how important this meal is, but he's beginning to actually believe magic lies in the people sharing his home.

Kurt gasps, free hand flying to his lips to muffle, "It's so beautiful."

Blaine pulls out Kurt's chair for him before sitting on the opposite side.

As Kurt takes a bite of his chutney, his eyes widen into pie plates. He chews slowly, savoring every spice. "This is _amazing_, Blaine. I can't believe you live this way. For the food alone, I'm tempted to pull a Talented Mr. Ripley on you."

"My life does have its benefits. It makes me look all the more forward to sharing it with someone." Too much? That was too much. Blaine quickly covers, "I guess that's what best friends are for, right?"

Kurt looks down at his lap and clears his throat before nodding.

Terrified he's made Kurt uncomfortable (AGAIN), Blaine verbally stumbles for a new topic, "So, how... is your dad's shop? Is he selling a lot of snow tires?" Okay, he should probably figure out just what being a mechanic entails.

Kurt chuckles good-naturedly before answering, "It's doing well. Business always slows in the winter, but we're getting by."

"You know, if you ever need extra work, I can always bring a few of the cars in."

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"No, I'm serious. My parents have been thinking about getting a garage attendant for years but haven't gotten around to it yet. Some of those babies probably need some attention."

"Well, if you want any of them looked at, feel free to bring them in. We'll do it free of charge. Letting us under the hood of that 1948 Jaguar XK120 would be payment enough."

"You are welcome to visit my cars any time you'd like."

"That's a very dangerous offer, Mr. Anderson."

"I doubt that." There will never be a moment Blaine wouldn't be overjoyed by Kurt's company, he's sure.

As the last of the meal is scraped from their plates, and the light through the window grows dim, Blaine feels a wave of dread pour over him. This is it. The date's drawing to a close, and it will be over. Forever.

Maybe... Maybe they can get desert in. He's certain his cook can make something healthy, something Kurt will actually stay to eat. Preferably something that takes a while to prepare.

He has to ask, because waiting for Kurt to bring it up will be torture, "So... when do you need to be getting back tonight?" What is the absolute maximum amount of time Blaine can keep Kurt?

"Actually, if it's all right with you, I was hoping to stay the night. It's late, and the weather's been unpredictable."

The weather has actually been clear and consistent... but it wasn't when this topic was last brought up. When Blaine messed everything up, asking Kurt to stay the night with him.

It's the only other thing Blaine has ever asked of Kurt, and Kurt's giving it to him.

What is Blaine thinking for? Kurt asked him a question; he really must answer the boy!

"You would really stay?"

"I'll just get my overnight bag out of the car." Kurt stands, bringing his dirty dishes with him as he steps out of the Dining Room.

"Are you planning on reverse-engineering that chutney?"

Kurt turns, sending Blaine a confused glance through the doorway.

Blaine points to the plate in Kurt's hand, "Are you taking that home with you?"

Kurt glances at the plate, confirming it's the topic, "I was going to... drop it off in the sink...?"

"Oh!" Of course, that's what they'd all done in the Hummel home. "The staff takes care of all that."

Kurt bows his head as a blush rises in his cheeks, "Well, there goes my exit." The plate, glass, and silverware return to the table in a neat stack.

"It's okay. You were heading in the wrong direction, anyway."

Kurt's hands fly to his hips, his chin raising haughtily, "Blaine Anderson, your house is enormous. I think I just saw Amelia Earhart asking the Donner Party for directions to the bathroom. I certainly can't be blamed-"

"Come on," Blaine grabs Kurt's hand, an act he _seriously_ never wants to let go of, and guides, "I'll have a directory system installed, just for you."

Kurt's overnight bag turns out to be a suitcase. A large one. And it's full. It suits the boy; Kurt's never struck as a light packer.

"Where should I put my things?"

"Where you'll be sleeping?"

If they were actual boyfriends, had been dating for a matter of months rather than hours, they'd have discussed this: sleeping arrangement while staying at the other's house. Well, more likely, Kurt's family would have forbidden the possibility entirely, but they'd at least be prepared. This, this is just awkward.

"We have plenty of guest rooms..." If Blaine doesn't say it, it will never happen, and he really wants it to happen. Still, he can't bring his voice above a whisper, "I'd really like you to stay in my room, though."

Kurt blinks a few times in rapid succession before breathing out, "Of course."

Oh, God, Blaine feels like he's pressured him, "You don't have to, of course! Wherever you're most comfortable-"

"What could make me more comfortable than staying with my boyfriend?" Kurt schools his features, any traces of doubt or nervousness slipping away. He looks confident, sure that sharing a room with Blaine will be a good idea, and it's overwhelming.

Blaine can't help it- he leaps at Kurt and throws his arms around him. It's just... no one has ever done this much for him, and it feels amazing. He never wants this to end. "Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!"

Kurt produces an undignified squeak of surprise before returning the hug, rubbing Blaine's back gently, "Shh, it's okay."

And, that's how Blaine realizes he's crying again, just a few tears sliding down his cheeks as his body trembles. Not wanting to get Kurt's sweater wet, Blaine pulls back and quickly wipes away the droplets. With his dry hand, he grabs Kurt's suitcase, "How about I show you to my room?"

In the elevator, Kurt hugs Blaine's free arm and rests his head on his shoulder. It's enough to either make Blaine sob harder or stop the tears altogether. He lets the tears stop.

As they step into Blaine's bedroom for the first time, Kurt gasps. It's not because of the massive four post bed or the rich oak wall paneling or the highly-polished antique furniture. It's for a poster by the en-suite bathroom, of Debbie Reynolds, Donald O'Connor, and Gene Kelly marching forward with their raincoats and umbrellas. "You didn't tell me you like musicals!"

Never mind that Blaine stars in a glee club and does musical theater at theme parks during his vacations, so it should be obvious. Things like this should be expressed without reliance upon hints. Taste this exquisite is too important not to mention outright.

Blaine smiles, bright and pure, "I _love_ musicals!"

Kurt feels too much excitement bubbling within him to contain, "Please tell me you have-"

Blaine slides wood paneling to the side to reveal an impressive DVD collection and pulls out Singin' In The Rain. "The best musical of all time?"

"With Syd Charisse's show-stopping footwork?"

"And Donald and Gene's stunning tap talents?"

"And Jean Hagen's amazing comical acting?"

"And the best music ever to be written for the screen?"

Kurt squeals as he grabs the movie, "We're watching this!" and makes his way toward the door, his thoughts on the Drawing Room.

Blaine presses a button above his nightstand and more wood paneling starts sliding away, revealing a TV across from the foot of the bed and speakers all around the room.

Kurt stops his exit mid-step and turns back, "Or, we could watch it in here with the surround sound."

Blaine takes the movie back and pops it in before seating himself on the edge of the bed. Kurt sits next to him, close enough to share body heat.

The movie starts, and they're immediately singing along with the show's namesake number.

Shoes come off and positions change as they lean into the movie. By the time Lina Lamont is battling the terrors of dynamic microphones, Kurt decides to lie on his stomach for a while and grabs a pillow. He freezes, staring back as the pillow hangs in the air.

Blaine turns toward the headboard to see what Kurt's looking at and his stomach drops. There, folded neatly, is the clothing Kurt let him borrow over a week ago. Shit, it's creepy to store another person's clothing in your bed. "Kurt, I..."

"Are those mine?" Oh, good, they're prolonging the torture.

"Y-yes. They just... remind me of you, help me sleep. I wasn't... doing... with them. Oh, God, I'm sorry. I shouldn't- but, I really didn't-"

"You don't have to apologize for being attracted to me."

Blaine swallows, licks his lips, and swallows again. "I am."

Kurt slowly leans forward, his own breath shaky, and plants a soft kiss on Blaine's lips. Blaine gasps, but wastes no time before kissing back, hands flying up to cradle Kurt's face, holding him close.

He gently presses at Kurt's shoulders until Kurt's lying back on the bed. "I'm extremely attracted to you." Blaine covers Kurt's mouth with his own, fingertips tracing his jawline, cheekbones, and eyebrows.

Kurt's knuckles brush against Blaine's sides, sending chills up and down his spine.

Inspired by lust, Blaine migrates lower, running his tongue behind Kurt's ear before suckling a trail to his throat.

Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine's waist, holding him to him, before throwing his head back to give Blaine's mouth room to play. He's letting Blaine just do what he wants.

"I love you," Blaine promises, before returning his attention to the spots he remembers make Kurt shiver. They work again, better when Kurt moans and digs his nails into Blaine's back. "Love you," Blaine whispers between kisses. "So much. So beautiful. Want you. Always. So perfect. Love you."

Blaine moves lower, pressing kisses to Kurt's chest through layers of sweater and undershirt, as he rubs his hands up and down Kurt's ribs. A thumb brushes a nipple and Kurt chokes on pleasure. Blaine does it again and Kurt spasms, eyes squeezed shut. He keeps at it, kissing Kurt again with every desire to devour the beauty before him.

Kurt whimpers and moans, making sounds so delicious it blinds Blaine in a haze of want. He returns to Kurt's neck, nipping him just above the collarbone.

Kurt gasps, bucking his hips, and Blaine feels it. Blaine's so overwhelmed he just has to reach out and touch, to make sure it's real. He palms Kurt through his jeans, staring in awe.

"Blaine!" Kurt gasps.

Blaine did this. He made Kurt this turned on. Him. If he can do this, make Kurt feel _this _good, maybe...

Mindless with arousal, Kurt thrusts into Blaine's hand.

Blaine kisses him hungrily, then whispers against his lips, "I want to make you feel good."

Kurt kisses him back with equal fervor, "So good."

"I want to make you cum," Blaine specifies, because the time for tactful euphemisms has passed. For added measure, he presses his palm harder against Kurt.

Kurt nods his agreement violently, "Anything."

Anything. The Kurt of Blaine's wildest (never admitted to) fantasies was never this wanton.

Blaine has to make this perfect. It's his only chance.

"I love you," he reminds Kurt, pressing one last kiss to those lips before sliding down his body. He loves him.

Kurt stares, eyes blown dark and chest heaving, as Blaine unbuttons Kurt's jeans. He pulls the zipper down slowly so it won't get stuck, and reveals a smooth stretch of Kurt's tummy. He can't help but kiss the tender skin there, nuzzling the bellybutton with his nose.

"Blaine," Kurt moans, absolutely helpless with desire.

Blaine doesn't hesitate again. Swiftly pulling down both waistbands at once, he swallows Kurt whole.

There's no finesse, no experience to draw from, just pure enthusiasm. He's putting the boy he's in love with in ecstasy.

Kurt's tossing his head back and forth, trying to handle the onslaught of pleasure. His fingers tangle in Blaine's curls, not demanding or controlling, just caressing. His hips twitch but never thrust. "Blaine!"

Blaine experiments, swirling his tongue, sucking harder, taking deeper, anything to keep Kurt happy.

Kurt's hands fall from Blaine's hair, clutching the comforter tightly as his moans turn to cries.

Bringing Kurt this much pleasure has Blaine moaning.

With a hoarse scream, Kurt becomes a trembling, shivering mess below him, and Blaine drinks down his gratitude.

He holds Kurt as he comes down, peppering his face with feather-light kisses. "I love you. I love you so much."

When Kurt's breathing evens into soft pants, he lifts a limp arm to pull Blaine into a passionate, sloppy kiss before falling back to catch his breath.

Debbie Reynolds is singing him Good Morning, her innocent face staring down at them, and his pants are around his thighs. Kurt laughs. He laughs so hard he almost cries, before burying his face into Blaine's chest and hugging for dear life.

Blaine hugs him back, kissing his hair soothingly.

Kurt pulls away, "I should change." Or, at least he should bring his pants back up. He does that first, just so he can stand.

Blaine leaps from his bed to hand Kurt his suitcase, "You can use the bathroom."

Kurt almost laughs again. What exactly is there left to hide from Blaine's vision? He walks into the bathroom instead. He shuts the door, but doesn't lock it. It's some sort of compromise with his mind.

He doesn't go through his moisturizing routine. He barely has the presence of mind to keep clothing tags on the inside and brush his teeth.

When he re-enters the bedroom, Blaine has lowered the volume of the movie and changed into sweatpants and a tank top. He's staring at the floor, looking nervous. Kurt figures out why when he speaks. "Can I... hold you tonight? At least until I fall asleep? You can push my away after. I'd just really like to fall asleep holding you."

Even after what Blaine just gave him, he thinks Kurt is going to reject him.

Kurt steps forward, wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck and rubbing their cheeks together, "How about we hold each other?"

Kurt hopes that will give Blaine a nice ending to their single day as boyfriends.

**THANK you for all your amazing reviews! They are better than chocolate and so inspiring.**


	8. Chapter 8

*All right, it seems that with work and the complexities of this story, I can only really commit to weekly updates, at least until I can get time to fill my notebook past what's posted on Teh Internetz. I'm sorry! I really tried finishing this sooner, and I am really posting all I have immediately after it's finished, so we both see my abilities. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, even with the wait.

This chapter was brought to you by Pear Jelly Bellies, Moscato, and, most importantly, viewers like you.

Totally posted this at midnight. The reason I'm happy about that will become apparent by the end of the chapter.*

Blaine wakes up to warmth and the scent of happiness. He opens his eyes to see Kurt. He's still here, still letting Blaine hold him, still holding Blaine, in fact. Blaine doesn't even have a chance to worry his magical day was a dream with the proof here in his arms.

Kurt looks so peaceful in his sleep that Blaine just watches him. His dreaming angel. Kurt makes a sleepy snuffle and cuddles closer. Blaine tightens his hold momentarily, memorizing, treasuring.

"Blaine?" Kurt stirs.

Blaine loosens his arms so Kurt doesn't feel trapped.

Kurt pulls back, not separating, just getting his bearings. He blinks sleepily and repeats, "Blaine?"

It's adorable. Kurt's eyes are just slivers of blue, underlined in cute puffy bags, and the pillow's seam is imprinted on his cheek. If he could, Blaine would wake up to this every morning for the rest of his life. He leans in and kisses those precious lips.

When Blaine pulls back, Kurt looks confused for a second before frowning. His eyes round in sadness and he shakes his head, "Blaine, yesterday..."

No. It can't be over. Kurt arrived at noon yesterday, Blaine remembers, which means he only got half a day. He's supposed to get a full day. He deserves a full day. If he only gets one, it should be a full one.

"Twenty-four hours," Blaine pleads. "A full day? Please, just one _full_ day? It's all I ask."

"Blaine..." The sadness is still there.

"_Please_."

"Okay." Kurt blinks until his eyes cheer up. "A full day."

Blaine closes his eyes to calm himself, "Thank you."

Kurt taps Blaine gently on the nose, surprising his eyes open. He smiles down at him and greets, "Good morning," before leaning in for a kiss. The kiss is all morning breath and waking muscles, and at least one of them is battling a yawn, but for Blaine, it's perfect.

Kurt gives one last soft peck before pulling back to whisper, "Let's make breakfast."

"Hmm?" Blaine doesn't quite catch the comment, still blissed out by the lip action.

"Blaine, have you never make breakfast before?"

Blaine shakes his head about, trying to wake his brain and catch up, "I can have my chef make whatever you want."

Kurt sighs, like he's trying not to give up on such a lost cause, "The point of making breakfast together is not to eat breakfast. It's to _make breakfast_." Kurt leaps from the bed and tugs on Blaine's arm until he does the same.

"Kurt, wait, what... What time is it?"

"It's breakfast time. Come on."

"The sun's barely up. On a Sunday." Can't they just lie in bed for a while?

"You need to show me where your Kitchen is."

"It's right next to the Dining Room."

Kurt throws an unimpressed glare his way.

"We were there last night," Blaine defends.

"I don't even know what floor we're on, Blaine!"

Blaine bites his lip to keep from laughing. It's not that he wants Kurt to feel put-out by his home's intimidating design, but as running gags go, he's never had more fun with one than this. "It's all a part of my master plan to keep you from going all Talented Mr. Ripley on me. You can't kill me if you need me to find food."

"Yeah, we'll see who needs whom when it comes to food, He Who's Never Made Breakfast."

"I'm still voting we let my chef handle that and you and I stay in bed an extra hour." And cuddle. Cuddle cuddle cuddle.

"I would not be doing my job as your boyfriend if I left here without you knowing how to make a simple pancake."

"Wait." Blaine halts as they step out of the elevator. Kurt would continue on without him... but he can't. "We're making pancakes? Aren't those incredibly unhealthy?"

"Well, there are things you can do to make them less horrendous, but yes, I am sacrificing my otherwise impeccable diet for your taste buds. Feel honored."

Blaine touches over his heart, "You care."

"Yes, yes, now quit stalling and at least _point_ me in the direction of the kitchen."

"It's this way." Blaine leads to the end of a corridor. "See, that's the Dining Room we ate in last night, across the hall is the Breakfast Room where we'll be eating this morning, and-"

"Wait, you have a Dining Room _and_ a Breakfast Room?"

"It's something to do with natural lighting that Thomas Jefferson used to do. Anyway, the last door here leads to the Kitchen." Blaine holds the door open for Kurt, but Kurt doesn't make it very far. He freezes in the doorway.

"Uh... Kurt?"

"Blaine?"

"Still me," Blaine smiles.

"Remember when I called the Dining Room beautiful?"

What about yesterday is Blaine going to forget? "Yes."

"This wins."

Peeking around Kurt's shoulders, Blaine doesn't see any special decorations. "It's a Kitchen."

"With four ovens, Blaine. Four! And do you see how massive the island is? Seriously, does your family own stock in marble?" Kurt finally moves into the room, so Blaine can follow as he gushes through an inspection. "Everything's so clean! And it's all organized along the walls so it doesn't take up counter space." He opens the refrigerator and sighs happily. He turns back to Blaine, excitement etched into his features, "I've changed my mind! We're not making pancakes. We're making a feast."

Blaine smiles at Kurt's enthusiasm, "Whatever you want."

Kurt bounces on the soles of his feet, "This is going to be amazing. How do you like your eggs?"

"Uh... cooked?"

"Poached, then. No, Benedict! This Kitchen is just begging me to make my Hollandaise Sauce. Do you have any white pepper?"

Blaine thinks it's really cute Kurt thinks he keeps inventory of this place. This is the first time he's stepped in here since a 2008 apple craving. "Maybe the Spice Pantry?"

Kurt turns to Blaine, eyes disbelieving, like Blaine just mentioned flying zebras or something. He goes to where Blaine's pointing (Like Blaine would know what white pepper looks like. Though, he supposed it's likely white.) and from the small room comes a gleefully shouted, "You have an entire pantry of spices!"

"It's a Spice Pantry." What had Kurt been expecting?

Kurt comes out with a container in his hand and pure bliss on his face. Blaine presses a palm to Kurt's cheek, "You are so amazing right now." If Blaine's not mistaken, that's a blush rising in Kurt's cheeks. Well, that deserves a kiss. He presses their lips together, just enough to show Kurt how much he cares about him, and Kurt kisses back. In fact, Kurt takes over, cradling Blaine's skull in both his hands as he moves his mouth against Blaine's. Blaine soaks it all up - the passion, the wet slide of lips, the gentle suction, the pleasant scent of Kurt without his usual layers of product and cologne.

With one last peck, it's over. Blaine's left panting and dazed in the middle of the Kitchen as Kurt rummages through the fridge, squealing about fresh fruit options. He learns the entire layout of the kitchen in under ten minutes, babbling his approval at every cabinet.

"Blaine?" Kurt calls when he realizes he's lost his audience.

Blaine blinks a few times to restart his brain, "Hmm?"

Kurt lets out an airy chuckle as he grabs Blaine's hand, "Come on, you're helping me stir."

As Kurt adds his third ingredient to the double boiler, he looks at his obedient kitchen assistant, rapidly stirring with a large whisk, and gives him a quick kiss before grabbing the fourth ingredient.

Blaine is left smiling. They're just kissing freely now? He can kiss Kurt whenever he'd like? Well, maybe not _that_ often. How about every other time he wants to? Cutting down his desire by half should leave Kurt enough time to breathe.

They continue their pattern of adding ingredients between kisses until the very well-seasoned sauce is complete. They aren't the passionate kiss they shared in the center of the Kitchen minutes ago, more like the kisses a couple of many years shares, just a reminders that they're in love.

"All right, we'll let the sauce set over here," Kurt separates the double boiler and sets the sauce on an oven mitt near the stove, "and onto the next item on our menu."

"Which is?" _Can we still kiss while making it?_

"Fruit salad. You have half a pineapple, grapes, red apples, and bananas, and I think those will go perfectly together." He dances about the kitchen, gathering items and placing them on two cutting boards on the Kitchen island. "I'll handle the pineapple, since it's sort of tricky, so you can cut the apples and bananas into half-inch cubes."

"What about the grapes?"

"Oh, those get cut into sixteenths."

Eyebrows raised, Blaine aims the knife and prepares to attempt the daunting task of cutting something so small so many times, until Kurt laughs.

"Blaine, I was kidding! They're small enough to go in the salad whole."

Blaine sets the knife down, turning a surprised face on Kurt, "Are you teasing me?"

Kurt shrugs, face softened in innocence, "No more than you tease me for not being able to navigate this labyrinth you live in."

Blaine gives Kurt a quick kiss. He can tease all he wants if he's going to be that adorable about it. "All right, I'm leaving the grapes alone. Half-inch cubes for the others. Do I leave in the core?"

"Of course you don't leave it in. You don't eat apple core."

"I was just checking. How about the peel?"

"That's personal preference."

"Okay. I've never peeled an apple before, so I'm going to prefer to leave it on."

"All right, but the banana peel comes off."

"Picky."

Blaine takes his time getting the fruit cut evenly, which earns him a kiss.

Kurt compliments the choice to leave in the apple skins, since it adds nice color to the bowl, which earn him a kiss.

"Usually Eggs Benedict requires Canadian Bacon, but since you only have ham, we'll use that. These rubber cups that look like nineteenth century lady's swimming caps are for poaching eggs." Kurt demonstrates, dropping two cupped eggs into boiling water.

Blaine watches as the clear albumen turns white. Cooking... could be more interesting than it is, but it's with Kurt, and Kurt's enjoying himself, so Blaine wouldn't be anywhere else.

"One last thing," Kurt pops two slices of bread in the toaster and dashes over to the fridge. "I saw this raspberry preserve and am dying to try some."

With plates of raspberry-smeared toast and Eggs Benedict, plus their bowl of fruit salad, they set up in the Breakfast Room. They end up making a second trip for water, because Kurt absolutely insists upon hydration for healthy skin, and a third trip because amid all the kisses and culinary excitement, they forgot silverware.

The first bite has Blaine's tongue literally tingling with delight, "Oh, wow, this is fabulous!"

"But of course. With our combined powers, how could it be anything but?" Still, Kurt is rather impressed, himself, when he finally tries some. "I am _so_ switching my family to organic milk."

This leads to a discussion about the supposed health benefits of organic and hormone-free lifestyles, then about lobbyists and how the political climate battles healthy living, then about the evils of politics in general, and then onto lighter topics such as the recent support for the gay marriage bill forming in New York. The topics flow seamlessly, happily. They are sitting next to each other, only a foot apart, so when either of them makes a good point, gushes about the meal, or does something especially cute, it earns a kiss. Blaine isn't sure who initiated the hand-holding, but it was very possibly Kurt.

Breakfast is bliss.

Blaine knows just what will keep it going. "Would you like to see the Garden?"

Kurt furrows his brow, "You mean the foot of snow surrounding your house?"

"No, it's indoors, actually. It's more like a giant greenhouse. I'll show you."

"Please do. I'm intrigued."

Their hands don't separate and they walk so close together they only take up half the hallway. Their feet move in sync, like they rehearsed this, right up to the glass door at the back of the house. Blaine opens it, and they step into... well, a Garden. It's warm, courtesy of the shimmering glass roof barely visible behind the canopy of treetops (and a heating system, though that's far less romantic to discuss). The lush vegetation is dense, enough to wind paths. It's simply inevitable they travel down one.

Rounding a bend, Kurt hears the barest trickle of water. It grows louder as they weave through brush until they duck under branches to reveal a small waterfall. It's no taller than either of the boys, and the gradual decline means the water does something closer to sliding than falling, but the gurgling ripples over the rock fixture is absolutely breathtaking.

The water doesn't just end there, cycling back through the slide down again. No, it continues on in a miniature creek, flowing deeper into the Garden. They follow it, Blaine guiding Kurt exactly where he wants to go, like this pint-sized interior forest has somehow given the curly head psychic powers.

They come across a small footbridge. This structure is completely unnecessary, considering one needs barely to hop to reach the opposite shore, but it shimmers with romance, so that's where they go.

At the top of the arch, Blaine stops them, turning back to look at Kurt. They stand there, four hands linked as one, gazing at each other, suspended above the water below two willow trees, and kiss. It's the perfect snapshot of love.

Blaine rests his forehead against Kurt's, sighing contentedly as their kiss ends. "This was my favorite place growing up."

"Right here?" Kurt indicates the bridge with a slight tilt of his head. It makes sense; Kurt's already fallen for its charms.

"Actually, right over here. I'll show you." Blaine guides again, leaving one magical spot in hopes of finding a better one. Under tree branches and around bushes in full bloom, the creek collects in a clear, calm pond. It's large enough for the half dozen coy living inside to cohabit peacefully, darting between rocks, unaware they're putting on a show of golden movement for the happy couple.

They circle halfway around the pond, seating themselves upon an ornate wooden bench housed in a vine-woven lattice dotted with tiny white flowers.

Kurt inhales the intoxicating perfume, "What is that?" His voice is hushed in respect for his surroundings.

"Night Blooming Jasmine," Blaine whispers back.

Kurt nods, having expected the answer, "That was my mom's favorite flower."

They lean their temples together, still and silent as they let nature bring them serenity.

Blaine doesn't know how long they're there before Kurt finally speaks again.

"This is so beautiful."

Blaine just nods in response.

"Thank you for sharing it with me."

"Of course."

"You're such an amazing person."

Blaine gasps, the powerful words immediately gaining control of him. He kisses Kurt's cheek before leaning further in, resting on the other boy's shoulder.

"You're so generous to share this all with me. You opened your whole house up to me, let me feel at home here... even if I can't find the bathroom."

Blaine would chuckle at the joke, he would, except he's under the spell of a Kurt Compliment, and everything else is just going to have to wait.

"You've always been there for me. You never let me handle it along, the bullying, the fear, the transition to a new school. You were... still are right by my side."

Blaine's breath becomes shaky as his heart hammers against his ribs.

"I'm so lucky to have you in my life. You make me really happy."

That's all Blaine wants: to make Kurt happy.

"You're so selfless, so caring." Kurt lifts Blaine's chin with a single knuckle, so they can look eye-to-eye. "Your the best person I know." With that, Kurt leans in for the kiss, pouring his every emotion though his lips and into the trembling boy before him.

This time, Kurt doesn't shush Blaine when the tears begin to flow. He knows this is happy crying, or at least catharsis after the weekend he's had, and just holds Blaine as Blaine's body deals with its emotions. He keeps holding him, even after Blaine's back to smiles and cuddles, and keeps holding him still.

Blaine never wants this to end. He's perfectly content living out the rest of his days in Kurt's arms, protected from the world, but for Kurt, he needs to be that generous, selfless person the other boy sees in him. He's never had a great internal clock, but somehow he knows, just knows, that their time is almost up, that Kurt needs to be getting home.

"Let's-" Blaine croaks, his throat still thick with the ghosts of long-dead tears. He clears it, and tries again, "Let's go back to the main house."

Kurt looks surprised, perhaps that Blaine is suggesting they end something that is so obviously making him happy, or perhaps having forgotten they are in fact still in Blaine's house. Either way, he nods reluctantly and they stand together.

Blaine takes them back to the Foyer next to the Guest Garage, hoping to make Kurt comfortable by familiar surroundings (and an obvious exit, if need be) for the last moments of their date. It's possibly a mistake, because there's a large Grandfather Clock in there, audibly ticking away their time together by the second.

Kurt doesn't notice the ominous heirloom, too distracted by his packed suitcase by the Garage door, but he does notice Blaine tense. Blaine doesn't deserve to be tense, not while the date is still going.

"You know what we haven't done yet?" Kurt swings their joined hands, grabbing his attention, distracting him from whatever's bothering him.

Blaine takes a cleansing breath and shakes off the dread, "What is that?"

"Dance."

The answer is so surprising, Blaine actually has a chance to laugh before the excitement takes over.

"Every first date requires dancing." Kurt's making that rule up right here, but he's willing to live by it.

"There isn't any music."

It's so cliche, the classics were even ripping someone off, but Kurt own his words when he replies, "We'll make our own."

Kurt's hands attach to Blaine's waist, Blaine's hands fly to Kurt's shoulders, and the Foyer becomes a Ballroom. They may look silly, but Hell if Blaine cares, because he's _dancing_with _Kurt_. The music is in their souls, playing to the rhythm of their heartbeat, synchronized in their hips as they twirl in the shapes of joy.

On the final dip, Blaine's eyes catch the clock once more. 11:59. As Kurt lifts him back up, he locks gazes with him, a far more pleasant sight, and holds him a bit closer. "Last minute."

Kurt swallows, blinking rapidly before nodding his understanding. "Blaine, I... I hope this is really what you wanted."

Of course it is. It has to be. Kurt gave him everything he asked for, everything he could ever dream of. It's okay that it's ending, because it happened.

Really. It is.

Before this is over, though, before he loses this entirely, he needs one last kiss. He leans in, and luckily Kurt's eager to comply.

It's fitting that this is their best kiss. It's filled with love and gratitude and gladness for what they had. It's everything Blaine could ever ask for in a last kiss.

The clock strikes twelve, and Blaine's carriage turns back into a pumpkin.

*Thank you, everyone, for the time you take to read and review my story.*


	9. Chapter 9

*Is anyone else reading LucyToo's The Worst That Could Happen? It's totally amazing, and I'm addicted. However, I have a bone to pick with that author. They update, like, every other day, with these ginormous chapters that never wane in quality... Some of us are getting size envy. What LucyToo does is not possible! Somebody tell me they're a robot, or a professional, or something.

Also, sometimes when I should be writing this, I'll actually be reading that story. It's just updated so often! And soooo good! You should totally blame The Worst That Could Happen. Not me.

On another note, I can't believe how many reviews my last chapter got! OVER 30! And they were all amazing and sweet, and thank you so much. Every time I post a chapter, the highlight of my day is reading your responses.*

Stepping onto school grounds the next morning, Blaine tries not to panic. It's just, things can go so very wrong.

When Kurt left yesterday, it wasn't like they were on bad terms. They were on friendly terms.

Friendly.

Which makes sense. They're friends. (Just friends.)

Now that Kurt's had a night to process everything, however, Blaine isn't sure how friendly he'll continue to be.

Blaine isn't an idiot. He knows what the weekend was. Kurt didn't magically form a 24-hour love for him that disappeared with the clock chimes. Kurt did all the romantic stuff _for_Blaine, out of the kindness of his heart, just because Blaine asked.

As important as it all was to Blaine, it meant nothing to Kurt. That's the exact sort of thing that, upon reflection, Kurt could see as a huge mistake. Everything could be awkward between them now.

Blaine doesn't think he could handle that.

He knows this is his fault. He asked for this, and got exactly what he requested. He earned every consequence.

He still can't help feeling like his heart is on the outside of his body, vulnerable, easily damaged by the slightest bump.

Passing through the large entrance doors, Blaine isn't sure which direction to go. Should he avoid Kurt, put off the possibly heartbreaking encounter for as long as possible? Or, should he just get it over with?

He was never good with Band-Aids. As a child, he could never rip them off, now matter how dirty and residue-laden they became. He would always wait for the eighth-or-so bath to wash them away painlessly.

Avoidance it is.

Kurt doesn't get the memo.

It's at the bottom of the grand staircase that he hears his name called in that beautiful voice. A siren's song. He turns, looking up the steps to see Kurt, and is reminded of the time they first met, when he first saw the most beautiful person in the world. Sure, he didn't fall in love immediately, but it was so obvious, even then with Kurt in some strange mock-uniform and sunglasses while indoors, that this boy is absolute perfection.

"Wes wanted us to remind everyone that today begins the extra Monday Warblers practice sessions. He said he called you but you didn't answer."

Blaine pats his pocket and finds it empty. He forgot his phone? That's a new one.

Blaine's confusion must show on his face, because Kurt misinterprets it and tries to trigger show choir memories, "We need all the practice we can get for Regionals... They decided Monday was better than Friday..."

"That's right. I remember." Blaine wants this topic to end so they can just be themselves, and he can see how Just Kurt is reacting to Just Blaine.

"Personally, I think our best chances at beating New Directions is to give me a solo, but no one ever seems on board with that." His tone is teasing, light, mirroring his half quirk of a smile.

Good. They're friends still. That's... good. It would be a lot worse if they weren't.

Kurt clears his throat, "Well, I think I saw three of our merry crew having breakfast in the cafeteria. Want to bear the bad news together?

As Kurt walks past him, leading the way, Blaine's hand reaches out of its own accord. It's been trained by twenty-four hours of bliss, but those hours are over. His knuckles brush gently against Kurt's for just a second before he pulls himself back.

It's not like they never held hands as friends. Hell, they were holding hands ten seconds after meeting each other. But, it will seem different to Kurt now. It's different for Blaine.

Kurt swallows, his expression unreadable and his eyes downcast before he speaks, "You, umm... You left some clothes at my place. Carole washed them for you. Want to swing by this weekend to pick them up? I'll make lasagna." It's funny, Kurt almost sounds... hopeful.

Blaine's nodding, so he's committed, "Yeah. That was nice of Carole. I'll have to thank her." Is he ready to re-enter the Hummel Home as, once again, Kurt's Just Friend? Is he even ready to spend time with him outside of school? Kurt's his best friend, and he'll always love him, but Blaine probably needs a bit. Just to get everything re-organized in his heart.

Too late now.

They go Warbler hunting. Kurt does all the talking.

When Blaine arrives home, he's exhausted. Warblers rehearsal wasn't especially physical - it was primarily a planning session, and they only went through one routine - but all he can think about is his bed.

First, though, he needs to meet with his chef. Omelettes are no longer his breakfast of choice. He's much more interested in Eggs Benedict. It's not just because- Okay, it's totally because of the past weekend. It was a great weekend; why wouldn't he want to relive it a little? Plus, today was a rough one, so he could use a little pick-me-up.

He wanders into the Kitchen, fully expecting the chef to be in there preparing dinner, but finds the place to be silent. The Spice Pantry has been carelessly left open, and for some reason that really bothers Blaine, so he shuts it.

Time to check the chef's room. He takes the elevator to the Staff Wing and knocks on the chef's door. There's no answer. He knocks harder. Still nothing.

Great. This is just great. Now he has to eat the same old crappy meal for breakfast. What's the point of having a chef if she just disappears when you have cooking requests? They pay her good money. She should be here.

This is so stupid! He just wants to tell her _one thing_. Why can't she just be there for him? Why can't the world just go his way?

Forget this. He's going to bed.

As it turns out, it doesn't matter than he never changed his order, because he sleeps through breakfast. In fact, he wakes up right as the first bell rings at Dalton, miles away.

Isn't that just perfect. He certainly fell asleep early enough; you'd think he'd wake up to his alarm.

Did he set his alarm?

Even though he's late, he has to take the time to get ready. He's still in yesterday's uniform, which was pressed up against Kurt's clothes all night. Yes, those clothes are still in his bed. He just needs the comfort. It's probably just in his head, but they still have the sweet scent of their owner. He can't go to school in a wrinkled uniform that smells like Kurt.

Getting a new uniform on, with the double-button fly, and more buttons on the shirt, and the starched collar just seems daunting. Not to mention brushing his teeth and, God, gelling his hair.

He hasn't even showered. There's so much to do.

Maybe if he just sleeps ten more minutes, it won't seem so bad.

No, he's already late. He's making it worse every passing second.

He'll skip the shower. It's only one day.

He grabs a new shirt from the closet, pulling it halfway on before he realizes he's still wearing his old shirt.

He's so stupid. Why is everything so complicated?

Off goes the old shirt, on comes the new. Buttons. Fuck buttons. Why can't he wear a T-shirt with this thing? Three buttons in, he finds he's putting them through the wrong holes.

He has to sit down. The mattress depresses beneath him unhappily. This is just... not funny. The world hates him.

He keeps yesterday's pants on. Who's going to care?

New socks should help. No, that's stupid. No one's going to see his socks.

Where are his shoes? He can't remember where he took them off. He looks along the floor, and when he doesn't spot them, the walls seem to crash down on him. He can't go looking for them. They could be anywhere. He doesn't have time. It would take too much work.

He collapses to the ground, just trying to collect himself.

Oh, his shoes are under the bed. Well, his day's just _turning around_ now. He shoves his feet inside and decides he's pretty enough for public consumption. He's just not going to let the mirror give its second opinion.

His blazer's in the coat closet next to Kurt's abandoned winter jacket. He's going to be smelling like Kurt regardless, then. He frowns, but probably just because he knows Kurt would be uncomfortable if Blaine walked around wafting Eau De Hummel.

All of his teachers are disappointed he didn't do his homework. Doesn't that just make him feel special. It's just one day, give him a break.

Lunch is roast beef, which sounds unappetizing. Blaine skips it. He's not that hungry.

Luckily, Wes is obsessive about details, so the Warblers meeting is just another planning session. Blaine's certain he lacks the energy for a peppy song.

It's the first time he sees Kurt that day, but Kurt doesn't sit by him. He sits by Thad because he wants to sneak notes back and forth explaining what their Algebra teacher had been going on about. Thad's good at math, so it makes sense.

Blaine's not spying on their notes; algebraic symbols are just highly recognizable.

Blaine's good at math, too.

When he gets home, he doesn't bother hunting down his annoying flake of a chef. He leaves a note on the refrigerator, written in huge Sharpie letters: "TOMORROW'S BREAKFAST - EGGS BENEDICT."

'_Ignore that, Bitch._'

He chooses bed over dinner.

When he wakes up halfway through Wednesday's third period, he decides to just give up on the day. He was late yesterday and no one cared. What's one day? The world will find a way to spin without Blaine Anderson studying European History.

He lies in bed for a while, finding no reason to get up until his back muscles protest. He drags himself from the covers and stumbles on auto-pilot to the Breakfast Room.

There's Eggs Benedict, still warm, on the table. Finally, his chef does something right.

Blaine's stomach growls in anticipation as he cuts himself a heaping piece and shoves it in his mouth.

It's... bland. It's nothing like what Kurt made. It's awful. One meal. All he wanted was for one meal to go right, and it took forever for this meal to even _happen_, so why is it wrong?

He shoves the plate away. He's not that hungry anyway.

Collapsing into the Drawing Room, he starts up Cinderella. The memory of arms wrap around him, holding him close, as that of lips kisses his hair.

When the credits rolls, he starts it over. No one gets to tell him when his fantasy ends.

It's during his third viewing that his butler interrupts, "Master Blaine?"

Blaine doesn't bother pausing the film. He's just going to watch the whole thing over again, "Yes?"

"Wesley Liang is here to see you."

Blaine looks up, surprised, as Wes steps into the room. "Wes?" Blaine's hugging a pillow to his chest, dressed in wrinkly Dalton issue, so not presentable for company, and Wes is here? Here?

"I don't care what illness you have, our star soloist is not missing a single rehearsal this close to Regionals."

"Wait, you came to my house?"

"It is my duty as a Council member to ensure all members are putting in 100% effort."

"So... you came to my house."

"Does your illness in any way effect your voice?"

"...No..."

"Great. Get dressed. You can still get to school in time for you last class and rehearsal."

It would take decidedly less effort to prepare himself for school than to argue with one Warbler Wes, so he gets to his feet.

It's lucky he makes it for Warblers. If not, he'd have missed a resounding recap of the previous meeting, and a discussion on stage size.

Kurt sits next to him, though. He hands Blaine a small stack of paper, "Carson said you missed your first lesson again and wanted me to give you his notes."

Blaine doesn't know how successful his attempt at a smile is. "Thanks."

Kurt nods, scoots to a distance slightly farther than just friendly, and doesn't speak again.

If Blaine closes his eyes, it's like Kurt isn't there at all.

The Warblers get caught up in an argument about the proper uniformity of tie length (should they all wear them the same length from the knot or the same length from the belt?) that soaks up the rest of the meeting.

"Are you okay?" David asks in a hushed voice.

"Fine," Blaine immediately answers. Nobody needs his problems.

"Okay... Are you sure? Because everyone's leaving and you're just sort of sitting there."

Right. The end of a meeting signifies more than just not having to hear Wes rant about increased rehearsals (where they don't even rehearse). He's actually supposed to move.

Blaine looks at the door, where the rest of the choir is filing out, to see Kurt watching him. It only lasts a moment, thought, before Kurt bows his head and becomes part of the crowd. Apparently they won't be hanging out today, either.

"And I've lost you again," David sighs.

"Huh?" Blaine turns back.

"No offense, Blaine, but you've been like this all day, just zoning. You didn't even open your book in English, and all through rehearsal you were having a staring contest with the window."

Blaine doesn't know how to respond, so he doesn't bother.

"Come on," David grabs his hand, but it doesn't feel right. It's too rough, too big. "I know just what will cheer you up." He pulls and Blaine lets himself be lifted, guided to the door. "My cousin is having a get-together this evening. It's nothing too major, just some friends, music, pizza, a chance to relax. It's just what you need."

"David, I don't think-"

"Hush, I am_ not _taking no for an answer."

Does it count as kidnapping if it's your friend doing it? Blaine knows David only has the best intentions here, but a party is not what Blaine needs. He needs sleep, lots of it. He needs to shut out the world, forget reality, and just fall into darkness. Dancing? Socializing? Putting on a smile? Kill him now.

He's in David's car anyway, speeding toward wherever this little bash of horrors is taking place.

"We're going in our uniforms?" is the first thought Blaine's able to voice.

"Of course. There are Crawford Country Day girls there. This uniform is like the Bat Signal to them."

Well, as long as there's good reason.

"Uh, Carl has gay friends. I'm sure they'll be there, too."

A fresh new Hell: being set up with Carl's gay friends.

"Oh, come on, don't look like that! It's going to be fun!"

"It turns out 'fun' is seventeen teenagers and five handles. David swears he didn't know there'd be alcohol at the party, but he says this with two shots in his hands before being dragged to the couch by some blonde in a short skirt, and that's the end of David.

So, Blaine is alone at a party he didn't want to go to in the first place, and there isn't a sober breath in the house.

When you're in Rome, you eat a lot of pasta or get left out. Blaine pours himself a double of Grey Goose. His pallet is only used to the finest, so there's a startling bite, but that will dissipate by the fourth shot.

He knows he's going to need to drink more than his staggering comrades, because he's built up quite the tolerance to this particular poison, but hell, he might actually end up enjoying himself.

"I can't believe you can drink that stuff straight!" a brunette giggles, leaning forward enough to let some cleavage fall from her V-neck. She's brought her A Game, it seems.

"It does take practice."

"I always find alcohol to taste way too nasty on its own."

"Better alcohol can actually taste pretty good, or at least lack any flavor at all. This stuff's just kind of cheap."

Brunette rises to her full height, returning her breasts to their rightful place beneath her clothing. "Excuse me? I brought that. Fucking snob." And, she's gone.

Well, that went wonderfully. Two more doubles it is.

He decides to avoid socialization after that unfortunate encounter, and finds himself a corner to nurse his exceptionally tall bottle of bird-themed medicine and wait out David's flirtation. Maybe Blaine will get lucky and the blonde will lose interest, giving David a reason to take him home.

He's no longer paying attention to the rambunctious people around him. He's just not interested. They've become background noise for the stirring image of his knees, which is why it comes as quite a surprise when a glass is thrust into his field of vision.

"I'll trade you water for that mighty large vodka you've got there."

Blaine looks up, confused. What kind of deal is that?

"You might want to pace yourself."

"I know what I'm doing." His words are slurred, so the water-bearer may have a point. Plus, when Blaine's vision clears, he can see the man before him is looking at him kindly, not judgmentally. He trades his liquor for hydration.

"I'm Alex, by the way," he sticks out his hand.

"Blaine," he shakes it.

"I couldn't help noticing you. A guy like you shouldn't be alone at a party."

Oh, is this flirting? Blaine was unaware. He looks back up, appraises. Alex is pretty attractive, college aged, likely old enough to have purchased some of the refreshments. He's got dark hair and light eyes, though he's a little too tan, especially for the winter, but that isn't something you fault a guy for, right?

"I came with a friend, but he found a girl."

Alex shrugs, "Now you've found a boy."

"I did," Blaine smiles, "and I didn't even have to leave my chair."

Alex laughs, finds Blaine funny and attractive, possibly even likes Blaine. Blaine may have finally founds someone who can like him back.

A red-headed guy in a too-large cap leaps from the coffee table, lets out a war cry, and lands on his stomach about a foot away. Alex barely avoids being hit by a rogue limb.

Startled, he looks over at Blaine to make sure he wasn't hurt (a very sweet gesture) and says, "You know, I heard drunk teenagers are actually the most dangerous animals on the planet. Want to go somewhere a little safer to talk?"

Blaine nods and follows Alex upstairs. The first two rooms they try are occupied by couples engaged in... activities, but the third room is empty, so they stake their claim. There's a bed inside, but Alex, a gentleman, leads them to the couch.

"So, I should probably get this over with: you don't have a boyfriend, do you?"

Blaine remembers Kurt coming to visit, calling himself his boyfriend, but then he remembers him leaving the next day, "No."

"Good!" Alex smiles. "Me neither." There's an awkward pause that Alex decides to fill, "I see you go to Dalton. Do you like it there?"

Blaine laughs. He's no expert on flirting, but is this really how it goes? "It's a good school. I like it."

"Good. I'm glad. You know, there's a great coffee shop near there, the Lima Bean. I go there sometimes. Do you like coffee?"

Alex seems to be under the impression that Blaine is the type who had to be earned, who needs the wooing process. Blaine just wants to feel like somebody can like him right now, so he moves to explain this.

By kissing Alex.

Alex gasps, then moans into the kiss, "Or we can do this. I like this." He kisses back with a lust that covers Blaine's shredded ego like a Band-Aid. Someone likes him. Someone_wants_ him.

Blaine takes Alex's lower lip in his mouth, grazes it with his teeth, then gently sucks. Alex's eyes roll back in his head with his moans. If he's going to like Blaine, Blaine owes him everything he has to offer.

"You're really good at that," Alex praises, petting Blaine's hair. He leans down and presses open-mouth kisses to Blaine's neck, darting his tongue out to taste.

Blaine bends his neck, eager to return the favor. He aims for the sweet spot behind the ear, and Alex shivers against him.

When Alex reaches for Blaine's shirt, Blaine's already lifting Alex's to kiss his stomach and up his chest. He has to keep Alex distracted. He can't let him think about this too much or he might leave.

"So hot," Alex pets Blaine's face, then gently pulls it up into a sweet kiss. His arms wrap around Blaine, a vice-like cuddle that doesn't let Blaine return lower. But he needs to, he just wants to make Alex feel good, make him stay.

Alex shushes him as he squirms, nuzzling his cheek in an attempt to calm both Blaine and their speedy romantic progress.

Blaine whimpers out a, "Please," as he thrusts his hips down into Alex.

"Okay, okay, I've got you," Alex lies Blaine back and covers his body with his own. He kisses Blaine again, running smooth hands up and down his sides so he can pleasure and soothe in the same motion.

It's not enough. Blaine needs Alex writhing atop him, using Blaine's body to its full potential, so he'll have no reason to walk away. Blaine opens his legs and wraps them around Alex's waist, then bucks up with impressive aim. He watches as Alex drops his jaw in a silent cry, then loses all control, thrusting down with abandon and panting with his closed-eyed exertion.

Now Blaine just has to remain silent, avoid reminding Alex just who he's with. He stares at the far corner so his gaze won't trigger a sixth sense and distract the boy above him, and lets himself feel wanted.

Alex moans into his neck, then sucks, marks, claims. He pets Blaine's face and hair blindly, full of affection and desire.

Blaine remains perfectly still, paralyzed with hope.

He feels Alex startle, pause. He still can't bring himself to look at the older boy.

"Fuck." Alex sounds so full of regret. "You're drunk. I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have- Fuck." Alex leaps off the couch, staring down at Blaine in horror.

"No," Blaine moans. '_Don't leave me. Please._'

"I'm sorry," Alex manages before rushing from the room.

Blaine's alone.

Again, abandoned. He isn't drunk. It was just an excuse. Nobody wants him.

Why isn't he ever good enough?


	10. Chapter 10

Blaine lies there, staring at the emptiness above him, until he no longer feels like crying. Never has he had to fight so hard to keep the tears back.

Finally, he rolls off the couch, catches himself on alcohol-soaked legs, and stumbles down the stairs.

David's still with his blonde, having moved to Blaine's former corner seat to make out.

Too fucking bad.

"David, I want to go home." David doesn't hear him, but with the music playing, _Blaine_ doesn't even hear his weak voice. He taps David's arm, the one seeking the clasps of Blonde's bra, until David realizes his girl isn't _that _flexible.

When David opens his eyes, Blaine points to the door.

David makes the universal "Are You Serious?" bug eyes, and Blaine levels a glare. If David could make them come to this awful party, Blaine can make them leave.

Seeing the communication, Blonde slides off David and finds a more convenient lap.

David looks truly devastated, "You see what you did?"

Blaine adds power to his voice, makes sure David hears, "Take me home."

David relents, digging out his keys as they head for the front door.

In the passenger seat, Blaine fumes. He didn't want to go to that party, and it certainly didn't make him feel better. It made him feel much, much worse, so David must be the biggest idiot in the universe.

David breaks the silence, "Did you at least give Alex a chance?"

Blaine's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, "You saw us together?"

David snorts, "Are you kidding me? With you hiding in the corner, Alex never would have seen you _period_ if it weren't for me."

Red flag.

"Wait. You set me up?"

"If by that you mean, 'sent an attractive, available guy your way,' then yes, I _set you up_."

Blaine can't even form a response to this. Too many thoughts are bouncing about his brain.

David fills the silence, "Parties are about meeting people, socializing. Pouting in the corner wasn't going to do you any favors."

"So you sent a guy over to do me favors?" Blaine's tone is incredulous, annoyed.

"I sent a guy over to cheer you up, because I'm your friend. Sue me."

"Well, I'm still not cheery, so let's try again. Hell, with that failure under my belt, let's write off free guys all together and move onto prostitutes. Those make everyone feel better!"

David rolls his eyes at his friend's dramatic response, "I honestly don't understand why you're this upset. I'm sorry things didn't work out with Alex. We'll find you someone else."

Seriously? _They'll_ find _him_ someone? "Don't set me up," he grits through his teeth.

David sighs, "I'm just trying to help."

"I don't _need_ your help."

"Really? Doing just fine on your own, are you?" Sarcasm isn't really David's thing, so it stings that much more. That would likely explain Blaine's inelegant retort.

"Shut up."

"Blaine, I know you think-"

"Seriously. You need to stop talking."

It works. The car is thrown into silence. A verbal neutral zone forms between them and there's peace in the galaxy.

Then, five seconds pass.

"You need to get over Kurt."

Everything inside of Blaine clenches and ceases to function in the same instant. Did that really just happen? Did David _really_ just say that?

"Excuse me?"

"He's not interested in you, Blaine. Not like that. You need to move on."

No. They aren't talking about this, not after how rough these past few days have been. Not with how raw and exposed this topic feels. "You don't know what you're talking about."

But, doesn't he?

"You have feelings for him. It's obvious. It's also obvious that he takes every opportunity to remind you you're just friends. At first, it seemed like a harmless crush, but it's become evident how badly it's been effecting you. You've been missing school, failing assignments, ignoring the people around you. Kurt's not going to change the way he feels, and you need to move on with your life."

"How dare you..." How dare he what? Speak the truth? Say what everyone else sees? Remove the rose-colored glasses Blaine isn't even trying to wear?

"I care about you, Blaine. I don't want to see you hurt."

"So you took me to get drunk and have sex so I can get over someone? _That's_ how you show you care? God, you are such a shit friend!"

"Perhaps you'd have preferred me leaving you to sit alone in the choir room, staring after Kurt's shadow?" David's question is said so calmly, and that just pisses Blaine off more. Why does David get to be calm when Blaine feels like his life's become a mudslide?

"Fuck you." He wants it to sound mean, angry, but it just sounds so sad it's pathetic.

David nods sadly, "I can see we won't be making any more progress tonight."

What progress does David thing they made?

David turns onto the road Dalton Academy is on, travelling through Westerville on his way toward Blaine's house, and Blaine's car, alone in the parking lot, becomes a homingbeacon.

Blaine can not be in this car anymore.

"Just let me out here."

David doesn't even slow down, "What?"

"I'm driving the rest of the way myself."

David sighs like he's talking to a stubborn two-year-old in need of a nap, "You're too drunk to drive."

Blaine unbuckles his seat belt, "Then I'll sit there until I sober up."

"Don't be stupid, Blaine."

"Don't call me stupid! I need my car tomorrow. Let me out!"

There's no reason the Lexus Blaine took out is any more important that the dozens of other vehicles in his garage. He's such a crappy liar it's a blessing no one cares about him enough to pay attention. David stops the car.

Blaine doesn't even wait for the car to stop bouncing on its braked wheels to launch himself out the door.

It's a long time before he hears David drive away, the passenger door slamming with the car's momentum.

Blaine had no intention to stick to his word and just sit in his car until it's safe to drive (it's already safe to drive, since he is _so_ not drunk), but he's behind the wheel and his key is still in his hand. He's not sure what's holding him back. His bed is still calling him, it's cold, there's nothing particularly interesting out his windshield...

It's like he's tethered to something. The recent past. David's car. That awful conversation left (hopefully forever) unfinished. But, those aren't here, so Blaine shouldn't feel he has to be, either.

He lifts the key toward the ignition and his hand feels heavier somehow, like he's moving through water with his clothes on. The key scratches around its goal, seeking, before sliding into place.

On his first attempt, the engine doesn't turn over. His car just shrieks in pain, startling Blaine out of a stupor he was unaware of being in.

He shakes his head, but the feeling of dusty cobwebs doesn't lift.

He twists the key again, and the car starts.

The radio immediately blasts, something he used to enjoy but has recently become something he simply lacks the energy to turn off.

The song is familiar.

_"...you make me smile..."_

A snow-covered park.

_"Please stay for a while now..."_

Swings flying through the air.

_"Just take your time..."_

A hand on his cheek, the gaze of his _boyfriend_.

_"Wherever you go."_

His magical date with Kurt. Something about this song makes him think of that, of their time together.

Something splashes on his pants. Drip. Drip. He looks down, but can't make out what it is through his blurry vision. He reaches a hand up to rub his eyes, and his fingers slide slick across his face. They come back wet... with tears. Is he crying? Why is he crying?

It's just a song. It reminds him of something happy, possibly the best time of his life: his day with Kurt. His dream date made reality. Everything he could ever want. Everything, except more of it.

But it's over now. He only got one day. That's his fault, since he only asked for one day. He should have asked for more, but it's too late now. He got what he's ever going to get.

It was worth it. He got to spend the whole day with Kurt. Twenty-four hours when he never felt alone. He got to love someone, share his life with them, and it got to be Kurt. He got to cuddle Kurt, kiss him, make him feel the ultimate pleasure. He got to hold him, be held by him, for a whole night. It was absolutely perfect.

And it's over now. Gone forever.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

That's right, he's crying. Why is he crying?

It was a beautiful date. He wishes it could have gone on forever. He's so lucky to have experienced it. If only there was still something to look forward to.

It was so wonderful. Why couldn't it last?

The sob surprises Blaine. They were just confusing tears before, but sobs?

Why can't he just reflect on his date in peace? Why does his body have to be so sad?

Bodies don't get sad on their own. If he's crying, _he _must be sad.

Why is he sad? It was the best date of his life, always will be. Why does he have to dwell on the fact that it ended?

Why did it have to end? It ended so soon. Days are so much shorter than they seem, so small. Even in his short lifetime, he's already forgotten more days that he remembers.

He'll never forget that one, though. That day will replay in his mind for the rest of his life.

He's sobbing harder now.

It was a good date, nothing to cry over. Everything went right. In any other circumstance, it would have been worth a second date.

Why wasn't Blaine worth a second date?

That thought is a realization that parts the clouds to reveal a too-bright sun.

Blaine gasps, pulling in air as his diaphragm stutters with the weight of his emotions. The air leaves in a wail, loud and pained, before the sobs return.

Why wasn't Blaine good enough? Why did he only get a pity date? Why can't Kurt love him?

Why did he _ever_ think one date would be enough for him?

Why has it taken so long to realize it wasn't?

God, he's so stupid! What did he think was bringing him down all week? The weather? It was staring him in the face and he just closed his eyes, too afraid to acknowledge it.

He tasted paradise and it was ripped from him. The aftertaste is so bitter.

He's never been as happy as he was on that date, and he'll _never get that again_. He'll never be that happy again. He'll never get to love someone again. Kurt's it, and it's over. That's just so...

Depressing.

Depressed. Of course. Of course he's depressed. How couldn't he be? It makes so much sense.

Shit, he's _depressed_. That's serious. That's medical. That's... That's something you get after a tragedy, like the loss of a loved one. Depression isn't for rich prep school boys in the prime of their lives. It's definitely not something you get over _one_ date that didn't go the way you wanted. That's just... pathetic. _He's_...

No. Blaine Anderson is not pathetic. He's not. So he's definitely not going to let this bring him down. Anymore.

He's cried enough, more than enough. He's cried too much. He's missed too much school, skipped too many assignments, ignored too many lessons. He's not doing that anymore. He's _Blaine Anderson_, and that still means something.

Blaine Anderson taught himself to drive on his sixteenth birthday. Blaine Anderson studied the recommended reading and was the only student _ever_ to earn a 100% on one of Professor Bowle's midterms. Blaine Anderson can memorize an entire routine, including lyrics, in one night. Blaine Anderson is stronger than this, and he's going to show the world.

As soon as he leaves this parking lot.

*Thank you for all your kind reviews, and for just reading what I'm posting. It's every writer's dream!*


	11. Chapter 11

*We're going to play a game called "Let's Forget I Didn't Update Last Week." The rules are simple, and pretty implied... Not down for it? Yeah, I didn't think so. I'm sorry! This chapter was difficult, and seriously, half of it was thought up within the past twenty-four hours. I've been so focused on chapters to come that this one wasn't churning like I'm used to. So, I have a request of you lovely readers. That's right, in the same paragraph I apologize for failing, I also ask for a favor. I have no shame. **I am looking for a beta.**I'm not looking so much for a person to read over and correct grammar and spelling issues. I know I'm not perfect, but I'm hoping for a little more. What I am looking for is someone I can bounce story ideas off of, who can tell me if something is boring, or remind me that something I've already written conflicts with a detail I randomly add. I have silly little confidence issues that slow my progress, and if someone could kick my butt and toss the occasional advice my way, this story would be all the stronger for it. You have no idea how much I'd appreciate anyone's help in this regard.

Okay, onto the story!*

_Blaine Anderson is stronger than this, and he's going to show the world._

_As soon as he leaves this parking lot._

Blaine presses the gas and moves forward. He meant to go in reverse, has his neck twisted around as proof, but there's no cement block in his way, so he can go forward. It's fine. He flips around, out the exit, and on his way home. He sings for the whole drive, every word of every song at full volume.

He trips getting out of the car, but turns it into a dance, singing the rest of the last song on the radio.

He tosses his key into the air before returning it to the hook.

"Good evening, Sir," Charles greets as he holds the door open.

"It is, isn't it?" Blaine beams before whistling his way to the elevator. It's not any particular tune, more cheer between two lips, but he keeps it going all the way to his bedroom.

He smiles at his door as he gently twists the knob, stepping inside. He has a full night ahead of him! His teachers have been so disappointed in his lack of work lately, and he's not going to give them more reason to send him those deep sighs. He's going to turn in every missed assignment with 200% of his usual Blaine Anderson effort. Then they'll see he's all better.

Coffee. He needs coffee. The lingering effects of that tall bottle of vodka are tugging on his eyelids, but there's no time for that now. He's got to get his homework done. He's got to prove himself.

He sprints to the elevator, still open from his trip up, and keeps pressing the button until it reaches the ground floor. He immediately spots Charles, tidying or something in a convenient location.

"Charles, have the chef bring a pot of coffee to my room." Why didn't he think to have Charles deliver messages to his chef before? Of course! How silly.

He should really learn his new chef's name.

Blaine didn't hear Charles respond, but he's gone now, so he must be obeying. No matter, it's time for his history practice quiz.

Taking the practice quiz means he has to reach Chapter 13 of his history textbook, which means he has to study Colonial America. That coffee can't come soon enough.

A knock sounds at the door, "Sir? I have your coffee."

"Come in," Blaine invites brightly.

The chef pushes a trolley topped with a ceramic coffee set, complete with sugar and cream, into the room. Finally, she does something right. "Will you be needing anything else, Sir?"

"No, thank you. That will be all."

The chef leaves the trolley by the nightstand, nods dutifully, and heads for the door.

"Wait," Blaine stops her.

She turns back, "Sir?"

"What's your name?"

She looks startled at the question, which makes sense. It's not like her name has changed, and she's been working here for four years. Well, four years, three months, and four... no, five days, to be precise. Besides, after all the grief she's caused, she should really just answer the question.

"Kelly Martin, Sir," she smiles nervously, unsure if this is a test or some teenage prank.

"Kelly." Blaine's going to work on remembering that. It's been long enough. "Okay, thanks. That's all."

Kelly gives him one last confused glance, but Blaine's already serving himself from the trolley, so the conversation is obviously over.

The clock reads just past 4:00 AM when Blaine finishes typing his English paper, the last assignment. A quick proofread reveals an entire page comprised of three very long sentences. So, he's a little enthusiastic. It makes sense: he's taking control of his life. It's exciting. Plus, he's had an entire pot of coffee, and if you were to consult his heart, it would swear he was running a marathon. The simple grammar issue is an easy fix.

With his homework safely secured in his bookbag, Blaine sits on his bed. He stares at the far corner of his room for a good five minutes before he's aware of the act. He should probably be doing something. At this hour, he would usually be sleeping, but he's slept enough in the past few days, and the coffee is doing its job.

A shower. He hasn't showered in... He's not going to dwell on that. He's just going to take that shower now. It's going to be a long one.

The water is hot, comforting and exhilarating. He thinks if he lets it, it can be a metaphor and rinse the past few days away with their grime.

Rubbing in conditioner, he can't remember if he already shampooed. No matter, he just starts over. Has he used the bodywash yet? He possibly double-showers, but that could only be a good thing.

He leaves the steamy bathroom feeling refreshed and ready to face the day... which hasn't quite arrived. It's not even 5:00 yet, over an hour and a half before he usually begins his battle with the alarm clock.

His room could use some straightening up. It's become a bit of a disaster with dirty pieces of uniform tossed about. It's sort of humorous seeing a mess of only two repeated items: white dress shirts and gray slacks. Identical clothing everywhere, like a child took a single stamp to his room. He's not sure why this is funny, though. Maybe it's not. The uniforms go in his hamper, which he leaves outside his door for one of the many staff members to take care of.

He goes to make his bed and is immediately faced with Kurt's winterwear. It should be washed and returned to its owner. This isn't right, sleeping with a part of Kurt every night when Kurt will never sleep with him again. He folds the clothing carefully, perfect halves into perfect quarters, but can't bring himself to remove them. He lays them beneath his pillow, just for one more night.

It's still early, but he might as well get ready. He needs to look his best. He grabs his tub of gel and gets to work on his hair. The curls are a bit more unruly than usual, having experienced freedom for the past few days, but with three extra generous globs of product, he's staring at the reflection of a very put-together young man.

He slides into a fresh uniform, grabs his bookbag... and remembers it's still way too early to leave for school.

Breakfast. He typically eats in the morning. He definitely has time to do that now. He leaves his bookbag by the first floor elevator, walks into the Breakfast Room, and is actually surprised to find the table empty. It takes him a second to realize he _just _went through this: it's early. He probably beat his chef up by half an hour.

Up. Does it count as "up" if he was never "down?" He never slept. _That_ is why he's so early! Should he have slept? Should he sleep now? He'd only get a nap in, but people aren't supposed to go a whole night without sleep.

Eh, he shouldn't risk being later for school again.

Dalton has a cafeteria. By the time he gets there, it might even be serving breakfast. Best to be early when making a good impression!

It turns out, the cafeteria doors are open this early... to let the kitchen staff in. They're just starting the prep work for breakfast. Blaine can't blame them: classes don't start until 8:00, which means students aren't to be expected until after 7:00. It's hardly past 6:00.

"My, you're early!" a cook chimes cheerily as she comes in the door behind Blaine.

Blaine was just standing at the entrance, watching the kitchen unnoticed until now, and now that he's been caught, he realizes how silly that is. There are excuses, about wrong alarms, Daylight Savings, an interest in the culinary arts. Blaine just says, "Yeah."

"Are you hungry?"

One would certainly think so. He's standing in a cafeteria, watching food be born.

The cook puts a gentle hand on his arm, guiding him, "Let's just sit you down and I'll fix you up something quick."

Blaine sits near the kitchen, gaining the attention of the other staff members. "I don't want you to go to any trouble."

The cook turns back from where she was just exiting hearing range, "Instant oatmeal is never any trouble."

Blaine's surprised by the meal choice. He doesn't know the Dalton breakfast menu, since he usually dines at home, but lunches are a lot more lavish that instant oatmeal: roasts, salmon, cobb salads... Maybe this is what the cooks eat. Maybe he's being fed from their own personal stash.

A plate being set before him startles Blaine out of his own head. He doesn't feel he's had enough thoughts to fill the time it would take to serve oatmeal, a sliced orange, and a mug of tea. Maybe he's tired.

By the time Blaine says, "Thank you," the cook is already gone. Man, that woman is fast!

When he digs into his oatmeal, it isn't very hot. Three bites in, students start to join him. The cafeteria is crowded before he even gets to his orange. The bell rings and he forgot to drink his tea.

His first class is History. He arrives early and hands in his practice quiz to Professor Russel. "Professor, I deeply apologize for handing this in late. It won't happen again." Winning smile. Remorseful eyes. Back straight.

"Thank you, Blaine," Professor Russel sets the assignment on his desk and begins writing today's lesson on the board.

Blaine sits front row, center, his notebook out and ready. He copies the words from the board as the other students find their seats. He watches his professor with a smile on his face, ready to be engaged by whatever the topic is. He sits tall, presses pen to paper, and he's completely missed that Professor Russel has started talking. It's okay, Blaine can catch up.

"Now, you'll recall from the reading that the troops headed..."

Blaine just has to write down everything the man says. His pen flies, inking almost incoherent symbols about the American Revolution. Every time he misses a sentence, he gets flustered and misses six more. He's got to have enough down to count, though.

He's written, "Take out your book and turn," before he realizes that isn't a quote from George Washington. Everyone else is already turning pages and Blaine's book is still in his bag. What page was it? He pulls out his book and looks around. The general consensus seems to be page 302. Class is sort of a blur after that. He's pretty sure he spends the study portion just staring, considering how dry his eyes are and how little he's highlighted when the bell rings.

"Blaine, may I have a moment?" Professor Russel requests as everyone else files out.

"Yes, Professor?"

The last student leaves before Professor Russel continues, "I was reading over your practice quiz here and I couldn't help noticing a few inconsistencies. You may want to look this over." He hands the assignment back to Blaine.

"Inconsistencies?" Oh, no. What did he do wrong? Don't frown. Keep smiling.

"Just some details you may have gotten confused from the reading."

He's so stupid. Back straight.

"To start, Napoleon didn't fight in the French and Indian War... Blaine, I know this has been a tough week for you, but I see you're trying. Just look this over, get it to me by the end of the day, and I'll give you full points."

Blaine nods slowly as the words register, "Thank you. Yes, I'll fix this right away." He takes his seat and begins reading over what he wrote just twelve hours ago. He can fix this. He can make it better. He's fine now. Everything is fine.

"Blaine?" The name is intoned like it's not the first time it's been called in the past minute.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Don't you have a second period class?"

Second period? "Right!" Blaine packs his bookbag and rushes to Calculus.

Blaine doesn't have anymore assignment malfunctions before lunch, so History must just be a weak subject for him. It's that thought that reminds him to finish that practice quiz, which he does in the library as the other students eat. He had plenty for breakfast, anyway.

David doesn't spend the day avoiding Blaine. They just don't happen to share classes most of the day. He really needs to use the restroom between third and fourth period; seeing Blaine down the hall has nothing to do with the speed with which he darts through the door. It's just a coincidence that Blaine is by David's locker before the class he forgets his books in.

These excuses work until English, where David doesn't take his usual seat next to Blaine. Fine. It's avoidance. But, come on, Blaine straight up called him a shit friend. A guy can take offense. He's no a shit friend.

And he's _not_ feeling guilty about the party! Anybody else would have been cheered up. It's not his fault Blaine's anti-social.

So what if he's watching Blaine across the room instead of taking in the wonders of the English language? It's not guilt. It's just... Blaine isn't acting normal. Or, he is acting normal, but shouldn't be. Or... wasn't Blaine sad yesterday? This whole week, really? Yes. Yes, he was. So, why is he now smiling at the board like it's about to sprout wings and fly him to Disneyland?

Whoa, weird image.

That charming Blaine Anderson smile has never worked its spell on David before, but today, it's able to melt his anger into a bubbling intrigue.

He means to speak with him after class, but Blaine is a man on a mission of timeliness, so David doesn't catch up until they've reached the choir room.

"Blaine, hey!"

Blaine turns at the sound of his name, and together they become an obstacle in the doorway. "Hello, David."

"About the party..." Okay, so it's possible David feels guilty. "I didn't mean for you to feel uncomfortable."

"Oh, it's fine, David!" Blaine grins.

David's eyebrows rise. So... that was easy. "Yeah?"

"Of course! You were just trying to help me!"

He was! He really was! "So, you're good, then?"

"Fine! Totally fine! More than fine!"

Uh, okay, maybe Blaine's laying it on a little thick here. "You sure?"

"Definitely! Everything is great."

"Okay, good, because..." Time to admit it. "I really am sorry, Man."

"Water under the bridge! No harm, no foul. It's not like you left me alone with an ax-murderer or anything!" Apparently, Blaine finds this to be a perfectly acceptable conversation ender, because he's finding his seat now, leaving David haunted with a fresh new idea to feel guilty over.

After a fascinating debate on the formal hierarchy of dress sock lengths, through which Blaine looks actively engaged and truly concerned (if he does say so himself), Blaine rushes from the choir room. Got to get an early start on next week's assignments! They have to be perfect. He has to be perfect.

Face forward. Back straight. Smile at students passing by. Make eye contact. Keep moving forward.

Distracted, Blaine doesn't notice every student's eye is on him.

"There's Blaine," one boy leans toward another.

"Did you hear what happened to him this morning? Professor Russel kept him after class."

"I heard he's threatening to flunk him."

"That would get him kicked off the Warblers."

"Calvin thinks that's what made Blaine snap, why he's suddenly so happy again. He's manic."

"Totally. I saw it in a movie once."

Behind the gossipping pair, Kurt keeps pace, listening to every word. He frowns, processing. He thought Blaine was fine. He was smiling, wasn't he? Sure, there were a rough few days, but he's back. He needed his space, Kurt gave it to him, and it allowed him to gather himself. Blaine seemed fine. Kurt was just headed to reaffirm plans with Blaine for this weekend.

Maybe, though... maybe Blaine isn't okay. Maybe Kurt was fooled and his best friend is hurting worse than ever. He wants to catch up, see for himself, ask Blaine if he's really okay... but he just can't. Blaine gets farther and farther away until there's steel between them and an engine speeds Blaine's progress. Blaine disappears down the road, and Kurt lets him.

It's a long drive to Lima. It's a lot of time to think, to analyze Blaine's every action, to wonder what he, himself should have done. It's a long drive, but Kurt doesn't come up with any answers.

He opens the front door and is greeted with the warm scents of baking chicken and spiced rice. The familiarity of home is comforting, centering, and he immediately knows what to do.

"Dad?" Kurt steps into the kitchen where his parents are smiling, mid-conversation. He's interrupting, but they don't seem to mind.

"Hey, look who's home! How was your day?" Burt says, like he does every day. He always seems just as excited as the last time.

"I was actually hoping I could talk with you about that." Kurt's nervous, not because he's about to talk with his dad, but because he doesn't want to make Carole feel alienated. Their family dynamic is still cooling on the baking sheet, and the last thing he wants to do is toss it back in the oven, but sometimes, he just needs his dad.

"Just make sure to take the chicken out of the oven when the timer goes off," Carole smiles at the Hummel men as she makes her exit.

"Actually, Kurt, how about you and me go in the office. I got some inventory stuff I need to look over, anyway."

Kurt expects his dad to sit at the desk, where the inventory paperwork gathers dust, but he plops down on the couch, leaving room for his son to join him, "So, what is it you wanted to talk about?"

"I..." And, suddenly there's so much to say, so much weighing down on his shoulders, begging for release. He could tell him about how his best friend fell in love with him completely without warning. He could tell him about Blaine's amazing house and how empty it is. He could tell him about the date. He could admit he spent the night with a boy, confess he wasn't actually at Mercedes'. The guilt of lying has been such a burden, and telling his father could be even more of a relief. But, then his dad would be made at him, and he really needs his advice. "I'm worried about a friend."

"All right. Is this a real friend, or is this friend supposed to represent you?"

"Okay, first, you aren't supposed to ask that-"

"Hey, I just remember a certain 'friend' of yours having a crush on your math teacher, and it would have been a whole lot easier if I'd've just known it was you from the beginning!" Burt chuckles, partially from the memory, but mostly because of how much it makes Kurt blush.

"Moving on: it's not me. It's Blaine."

"It's Blaine," Burt nods in understanding. "What's going on with Blaine?"

How to word this... "He's seemed... sad this week."

"How sad?"

"Really sad."

"Okay. Any idea why?"

Oh boy. Time for a delicately altered version of reality: "Blaine... liked someone. A lot. And they went out on a date but it didn't work out."

Burt takes this in, swallows, clears his throat, and swallows again. "And does this boy... have feelings for Blaine, as well?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask him," Kurt throws out quickly. Maybe a little too quickly.

Burt nods, "So, Blaine liked this boy." If Burt's hand pointing in Kurt's direction is some kind of question, Kurt's not answering. "Their date didn't go well, and now Blaine's sad. Yeah?"

"Yes, except today he seemed really happy! Like, he was smiling and talking with everyone."

"So... you're worried that you friend isn't sad anymore?"

"I wasn't worried! But, then these boys were talking about how Blaine was held after class and he might be flunking, and he'll get kicked off the Warblers, and he's just faking being happy."

"Okay, I get the picture. First, you know what gossip is. What those boys said might be scaring you, but the only person who really knows what's going on with Blaine is Blaine."

Kurt nods, a bit relieved, "And second?"

"Second, Blaine's your friend. If you're worried about him, you should talk with him about it."

Kurt stares down at the carpet between his knees, brow furrowed in thought. Burt knows this as Kurt's 'Introspective Mode,' and there's no more conversation when it sets in. He pats Kurt's knee and returns to his lovely wife.

Kurt pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. Friends talk. If Blaine's his friend, they should talk about what's bothering him. But... Is Blaine still his friend?

_Can_ Kurt talk to him?

Blaine whistles his way through the garage again, tossing his key in the air before putting it away.

Charles isn't there to open the door for him, but that's okay. Blaine can manage just fine on his own.

He stops on the first floor, planning to request the chef make oatmeal for tomorrow's breakfast, when a voice off to his side stops him.

"Blaine! We're so glad you could make it home!"

Blaine turns toward the speaker, his breath lost somewhere in his chest. "Mom? Dad?"

*Thank you for your very kind reviews! I really appreciate all the time you put into reading and commenting on my story!*


	12. Chapter 12

*Thank you to everyone who offered to beta my story! I was overcome with your generosity, and since I would have been thrilled to have every single one of you helping me out, so I went with the first volunteer, Gottriplets. She's really helpful, and I think you'll all notice a serious lack of plot holes with her at the gate. I won't even admit to what this chapter looked like before she took a peek. I got her just in time!

Also, I have a tumblr now. Anyone want to tell me what I'm supposed to do with it? I'm SoBlonde1202 over there, if you want to see how bland my page is. I'll happily follow people! I've learned how to do that...*

__"Blaine! We're so glad you could make it!"__

__Blaine turns toward the speaker, his breath lost somewhere in his chest, "Mom? Dad?"__

"Yes, Blaine," Linda Anderson laughs from the Drawing Room doorway, "it's us. Come join us. We have something for you."

As soon as his mother disappears into the room, Blaine rushes after her.

His _parents_ are home? This is perfect! This is exactly what he needs! Just being in their presence, being with the people who have to accept him for the simple reason that they created him, will comfort him like nothing else can. That's what parents are for. They support their children when they need it most, and Blaine has never needed it more than he does right now.

It's not that anything is wrong with him, of course. He could just use a little cheering. Sharing the house with his family, not being alone, that is all the cheering he needs. His parents may not be that close to him, but it certainly will be enough. Certainly.

"I didn't know you were coming back today! Rose didn't mention anything. Have you been back long?"

"This is just a short layover. It wasn't really expected, but why stay in a hotel when you have a perfectly good bed just an hour from the airport? Our flight out is tomorrow morning."

That's so soon, such little time. Less than one day.

Linda sits on the couch beside her husband, taking his hand. On Mark Anderson's other side is a box, taking up the remaining cushion, so Blaine sits on the other couch across the coffee table.

Mark opens the box beside him, digs through it, and pulls out a plastic package. He lays it on the table before Blaine, "There you go."

Blaine smiles and thanks them generously for the gift before opening it.

"It's a traditional Chinese royal garb," Linda explains. "It was called something funny... Do you remember, Dear?"

"Ho Pung, was it?"

"No, I think that was his name." The couple shares a glance, smiles, a chuckles warmly. "Anyway," Linda turns back to Blaine, "we weren't sure of your size, but we can have the tailor alter it if need be."

Blaine has been the same size for almost a year now. Just looking at the tunic, Blaine can tell it's too small. Maybe if they'd brought it home from their _last _trip to China, when he was thirteen, it would have fit.

"We also got you this," Mark pulls a disc from the box. "It's all the rage with the kids over there."

Blaine picks the disc up from the table, sees the picture on the label, and recognizes the video game immediately. Wes's brother is obsessed with it - he's still in middle school.

"It's still in Chinese," Mark explains, "but maybe it will help you practice the language."

Blaine wracks his brain, trying to figure out what Mark is referring to, when he remember his phase of thinking he could learn Japanese by owning anime. Japanese... Chinese... Maybe if they were financial portfolios, his parents would work harder at telling them apart.

Whoa. Where did this anger come from? These are his parents! He can't harbor ill will toward them; he barely gets to see them. It's been over a month, and they'll only be here for the night. He needs to cherish this as much as possible. It needs to be absolutely perfect.

"Blaine, are you all right?" Linda asks.

"Hmm? Oh, I'm fine. Great, actually. I'm so glad you're home! Thank you for my wonderful gifts!"

"We would have gotten you more, but we didn't know we'd be back so soon. Next time, I suppose."

"I don't know about you, Blaine," Mark stands, "but we're starving. Let's see what Bonnie has for us."

"Bonnie left," Blaine quickly informs.

Linda looks confused, "What was that, Blaine?"

Blaine makes an effort to be less abrupt, "Bonnie no longer works here, remember? We have a new chef: Kelly." He's already forgotten her last name. Bonnie Zeller will just always be easier to associate with the chef title.

"Ah, well, Kelly then. I dare say the food should be on the table by now. Linda?"

Linda takes Mark's extended hand and lets him help her to her feet.

"Would you mind if I joined you?" Blaine remains seated, just in case.

The couple exchanges a glance before responding, "That's fine. We'll see if the chef prepared enough."

Blaine follows them to the Dining Room. The table is set for three. Blaine finds this to be lucky, since he would hate to feel like he's intruding.

Mark and Linda talk about their most recent trip throughout dinner. They don't give enough details or background information for Blaine to follow; they're more reminiscing than sharing. Blaine hardly takes in their words anyway, too focused on smiling and nodding along. (_Back straight. Don't show too much teeth. Laugh with them._)

"Blaine, you've hardly touched your food," Linda notices after her plate is sufficiently emptied.

Blaine looks down at his plate. Yep, hardly touched. He forgot a step. He looked actively engaged in the conversation but didn't keep the meal in mind. Get it together! "Oh, I wasn't very hungry."

"We weren't forcing you to join us, Silly!"

"No, I... I wanted to be here." Didn't they want him here?"

Mark and Linda exchange a knowing look.

Mark smiles sympathetically down at Blaine, "Tell you what, how about the three of us retire to the Drawing Room and watch that favorite cartoon of yours. Sleeping Beauty?"

What's ruder: letting them finding out that his favorite movie is Cinderella when they press 'play,' or telling them now? Probably telling them now. That would be correcting. What parent wasn't to be corrected by their child?

"Blaine? Does that sound all right to you? If you aren't interested, we _are _rather tired-"

"No! I- I mean yes, I'm interested. That sounds wonderful. Thank you." Blaine holds his breath, hoping the offer hasn't been removed from the table because of his failure to respond.

"All right, then," Mark agrees and leads them back to the Drawing Room. The couple once again claims the couch, Mark on the edge and Linda by the box. Blaine looks at his previous spot across from them, far from them, and bites his lip. He wants to be closer. He only gets this small amount with them, and that box is in his way. He walks over to the obstacle and gets a good grip.

"Careful, it's heavy," Mark looks puzzled at Blaine's action.

It is heavy, but that doesn't stop Blaine. He slides the box to the floor and proudly takes its place.

Blaine presses 'play' on the remote, and if Mark notices this isn't the particular movie he was expecting, he doesn't mention it.

Seconds into the introductory music, Blaine is lulled into the comfort of his movie. There's a warm shoulder, the shoulder of his mom, less than a foot from his cheek, so he gently leans into it. It's slender, bony, not what he's used to, but the touch feels nice.

"Are you tired, Blaine?" Linda looks down at him. "Perhaps we should all go to bed."

"No, no, I'm not tired. I'd like to stay, please. I'm sorry." Blaine presses himself back into his corner. What was he thinking? They don't cuddle. They've never cuddled with him. He shouldn't let his own obsession with affection push them away.

Looking down, he sees Mark and Linda's joined hands.

Perhaps...

Blaine slides his fingers across the couch, slowly toward their goal.

His mother's hand lays curled at the edge of her cushion.

He brushes his fingers beneath her palm, softly, trying not to startle.

Linda looks down at them, gives them two gently pats, and places her hand on her knee.

It's... enough.

___

Blaine wakes to the sound of the meal trolley. "Bonnie?" he asks sleepily.

The response is hesitant, "No... It's Kelly, Sir."

Right. It's Kelly now. Blaine opens his eyes to see the Drawing Room around him. He must have fallen asleep during the movie. "Are my parents...?"

"They left early this morning, Sir."

Blaine slept through their visit. He missed it. He missed the evening with them, and he missed telling them goodbye.

"What time is it?"

"Nearly half past six, Sir."

Blaine nods. At least he'll be able to make it to school.

Kelly pushes the trolley up to the coffee table and unloads the meal, "I thought you might prefer to have your breakfast in here this morning, Sir." She turns the TV on, presses 'play,' and allows Blaine to eat with Cinderella.

Blaine blinks back tears as his heart clenches in his chest. That was just... really sweet.

_

Blaine finds himself distracted through school, lost trying to reclaim memories of his parents' visit. They were only together for, what, two hours? But, he can't really remember it. He can't remember what they were wearing. He can't remember a single word they spoke during dinner. They probably told him everything they've been doing this past month and a half, and he missed it all.

He just remembers... thinking. A lot. About what? What could have been more important than spending time with his parents?

_Back straight. Don't show too much teeth. Laugh along._

Appearance. All he's been thinking about was appearance. He was so caught up making sure his damn smile was in place he wasn't paying attention to anything else. He was so deep inside his own head, he couldn't enjoy what little time his parents set aside for him.

He missed out on his parents!

He wanted to see them so much, and he wasted it.

Why did he have to care that his back straight? Why did he feel the need to put on an act? He wasted so much energy pretending he's okay that he wore himself out, slept through the visit, and wasn't really present for the parts he was even there for.

Why does he have to pretend to be okay? Why can't it just be real already? What does it take to stop being so fucking sad all the time?

What does it take to be happy? What does it take to feel loved? What does it take to make people want to be with you? What does it take to be good enough?

He really thought he was making himself better, cheering himself up, moving on. He was trying to fool everyone, but just fooled himself. He was Kathy Seldon, trapped behind a curtain of his own making as the world saw some Lina Lamont facade. It was all fake.

He's still depressed. Worse; he's depressed _and_ in denial.

"Blaine?"

What could somebody _possibly_ have to say to him right now?

"Class ended, Blaine. It's time to go home, now."

Oh, it's his English professor. He does not for the life of him remember coming to English. Isn't _that_ a running theme?

"Are you all right, Blaine?"

"My dog died." Blaine doesn't know where that lie came from, but it's the worst ever, because the idea of a dog dying pushes the tears to the forefront.

"I'm so sorry."

"Me too." His voice sounds pinched with emotion. It's time to go. He grabs his bookbag and rushes from class.

He's looking for his Lexus when he remembers he brought the Lamborghini today. To show how okay his life is. How fucking pompous.

He doesn't want to go home, to that empty, _lonely_ house. He starts driving without a destination.

Fields rush by. Buildings, homes, more homes, more fields.

Where he ends up would be funny if it weren't so obvious. The Hummel home, with its neat yard, cozy house, and happy family.

He parks on the curb, behind the BMW he essentially abandoned two weeks ago, and sits.

And sits...

What was his subconscious expecting? This isn't his home. He can't just waltz on up unannounced. He should leave. This is stupid. He drove all this way to be a ridiculous curb sitter.

"Whoa, Lamborghini!" The shout startles Blaine from his thoughts, forces him to look toward the house to see Finn in the doorway, trash bag in hand, just staring at the car before him.

This is awkward. He needs to get out of the car now.

The trash bag lays forgotten by a potted plant as Finn runs forward.

"Hey, Finn."

"Dude, you have a Lamborghini?"

"Uh... yep."

"That's so cool! This is seriously my dream car." Finn holds out his arms as if to hug the vehicle, eyes wide as he breathes it all in. "Wow."

Blaine smiles, holding out the key, "Want to drive?"

Finn's jaw drops, "Uh... I... Uh... Kurt never told you about the mailman, did he?"

"The mailman?"

Finn snatches the keys before Blaine can change his mind, "I would love to drive!"

Blaine doesn't know the significance "the mailman," but Finn drives pretty fast. It's understandable. The first thing you want to do when you get behind that wheel is put pedal to metal, but not in a neighborhood. Oh well, his insurance can cover pretty much anything, so long as Finn doesn't hit an actual person. Maybe that's what "the mailman" means...

The car stops. Blaine looks around. They're behind the housing development, next to a levy. He looks to Finn and sees he's watching him.

"So..." Finn starts, "What's up?"

"What?"

Finn sighs, "It's seriously obvious something's bothering you. I just figured, if you wanted to talk... We don't have to if you don't want to, though."

Does Blaine want to talk? Is that why he's here? After all, he did come to the only person he's been able to discuss any of this with.

"It's about Kurt." Blaine wants to give Finn ample opportunity to back out.

"Okay," Finn nods for him to keep going.

"Please don't tell him I said any of what I'm about to say to you."

Finn pauses, weighing loyalties, and decides, "I promise I won't tell Kurt you told me any of what you're going to tell me."

If Blaine was looking for a sign that Finn is the person to talk about this with, there it is. "Thank you."

"So, lay it on me, Man." Finn kills the engine.

If only there were a way for Finn to magically already know everything, like a theatrical cut where the characters sit down to talk and it's suddenly the next scene and they're already working on a solution.

Time doesn't elapse. Finn is still waiting for a response.

Where to begin... Probably the beginning.

"That day at the garage, when I went to see Kurt?" Blaine pauses to make sure Finn is following, and at the other boy's nod continues. "I told him that what I wanted most in the world was to see, for just one day, what it was like to be his boyfriend."

"Heavy. Uh, how did he take it?"

"He gave it to me. Last weekend, he came over, and just called himself my boyfriend. We went out on a date, went back to my place, and he let me hold him all night. He even held me, back. We kissed, a lot, and for one day, I got to experience what it's like to be with the boy I love." Blaine smiles as a tear slides down his cheek.

"What happened next?" Finn asks, dreading the answer.

Blaine swallows, closes his eyes, "The day ended."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Finn stares unseeing out the windshield and lets out a deep sigh, "Dude."

"Yeah."

"That... He really?... Are you sure it was actually a date? I mean, he can be pretty cuddly when he wants to be-"

"It was a date," Blaine defends brusquely.

"Right. Kissing." Finn's hope to clear his brother's name isn't working out so well.

"Lots of kissing. More than kissing."

"Whoa. More than kissing? Okay, that's a lot of information."

"Sorry. I just... I knew it was only going to be one date going in, but I couldn't help myself. I hoped. I know it's stupid, but I hoped."

"Hey, that's not stupid. You love him."

"It is stupid. It's obviously stupid. Look what happened!"

"What do you mean?"

"Kurt doesn't talk to me anymore."

"What?"

"He's avoiding me, spending time with others so he doesn't have to spend it with me."

"Seriously? But, you guys are best friends."

"I think I messed it all up."

"Okay, let's get one thing straight: you didn't mess anything up. You did nothing wrong here, Dude. You didn't force the date to happen. In fact, even if it was your idea, Kurt made it happen. Don't blame yourself."

Blaine laughs humorlessly. How is this so obvious and yet so over Finn's lofty head? "Of course it's my fault. Everyone leaves me."

Finn works his jaw, hoping it will form words he can't really manage, "Dude, I... I know this sucks and all, but-"

"I'm not exaggerating."

Finn may have started this conversation, but he's no longer in control. It's not going anywhere near as he planned (in the two seconds it took to pull over) and he's feeling lost, "Blaine?"

"My parents travel for work. A lot. They're home less than three months out of the year, for no more than two weeks at a time. You know I was born on their jet? It was somewhere over Panama, and the closest I ever came to going with them on one of their trips."

Finn struggles for a way to lighten the mood, "You were born on a plane, though. That's pretty cool."

"They never did let me get in the way of their plans."

Finn decides maybe it's best not to comment here.

"I just... I would _never_ say this to them, but... Sometimes, I don't even think they wanted a kid. Like, I was an accident, or..." Blaine's eyes begin to burn as he voices a truth he never before admitted to himself, "Maybe they just wanted me for the image. Perfect Christmas cards to clients, or something."

A hand on his shoulder stops Blaine. It's a gentle, calming presence. He looks over to see Finn's reassuring face, and the small eye movement releases the tears. Finn gives a quick squeeze.

"I couldn't even be that. I had to come out at a stupid school dance, get myself beaten half to death, prove I wasn't cut out for their perfect boarding school. I've caused so much grief."

"That's not your fault. You can't blame yourself." Finn squelches the intense desire to find out who, to Seek and Destroy.

Deep down, Blaine must know it's the truth, because he doesn't argue. "They didn't even raise me. I was too much of a burden. They let the job just fall on the chef. I have more memories of sitting on the kitchen island, talking to Bonnie as she cooked, than I do of my own parents."

"Er... Well, at least you had her, right? I mean, Bonnie has to be pretty cool."

"She was," Blaine's voice becomes so small, so vulnerable, "until she left me, too."

Finn should have been prepared for that, but he wasn't. He doesn't know what to say so he just squeezes Blaine's shoulder again.

"That isn't fair," Blaine sniffles. "I shouldn't blame her. She needed to be there for her daughter. I just... She was all I had."

"I'm sorry, Dude." Just hearing that come out of his own mouth... God, it's so pathetic. All that pain, and Finn's _sorry_? He should just keep his mouth shut.

"And- And then, I met the most beautiful, most amazing boy ever, and he actually wanted to be _my_ best friend. We were always there for each other, and I thought maybe- maybe this one wouldn't leave me. But he didn't want me enough." Blaine's starting to lose control, his voice shaking and his breath catching. He closes his eyes, tries to calm down, but these words have wanted to break free for so long, he can't stop them. "I needed her so much; why couldn't she stay just a little bit longer? Why couldn't he love me? Why didn't my mom want to hold my hand?" This is the breaking point. His words collapse into sobs as he crumples in on himself.

Blaine looks so small, crying out his years of abandonment. Finn's not going to let him be alone this time. He leans over the center console, reaching his arms around Blaine.

Blaine gasps at the contact, sees it's a hug, and flings himself into Finn's chest. He tangles his hands in the back of Finn's shirt, keeping the taller boy as close as possible.

As Blaine sobs, trembling and clinging, Finn just rubs his back like his mom used to do for him. He doesn't shush him; Blaine deserves to get this pain out as loudly as he wants.

Minutes pass, the armrest presses into Finn's ribs, Blaine's wails tear at Finn's heart, but he's not moving until Blaine does.

It's a long time before Blaine pulls back, catching his breath as he stares at the mess he's made, "You're shirt's soaked."

Finn shrugs, offering a lop-sided grin, "I have other shirts."

Blaine's face crinkles, his bottom lip quivering with the force of holding back tears, and Finn's afraid he said the wrong thing until Blaine whispers, "Thank you."

The relieved sigh tugs a, "Sure," through Finn's lips.

"I think I've needed a hug for a long time," Blaine tries to laugh at the self-deprecating joke, but he can't really pull it off.

Finn hasn't let go.

Blaine finishes his comment with, "Ever since that stupid date." This surprises Blaine. Even after all the pain it's caused, Blaine has always thought of that day in a positive light, as the best day of his life. But, that was his voice, and he knows it spoke the truth, so... Why? Does he regret the date? Hate it, even?

There's something about watching the boy in front of him break down that overwhelms Finn with the thought of 'Kurt did this.' Kurt's his brother, and he'll protect him from bullies until the world changes, but right now, Kurt isn't the one who needs protecting. "I can't believe he did that to you," Finn says under his breath, perhaps only to himself.

"Kurt was just doing what I asked-"

"I know, but... I mean, it's one thing to say something, but to do that... To give you everything you want and then just take it away? That's _garbage_, Man. It's messed up!"

"Maybe he tried to develop feelings for me, but couldn't..."

"_Still messed up_. Wait, did he say that? That he couldn't make himself like you?" Because, there are lines, even in this situation.

"No, he..." Blaine thinks back, to weeks ago when Kurt actually turned him down, "He said he can't do relationships, that he doesn't know how to take 'no' for an answer, that he can't tell when someone's not interested in him... which didn't make sense since I obviously was. Obviously am." Of course Blaine isn't over Kurt. He probably never will be.

"That's no a reason to lead someone on! Look, I get that you love him, so you think he's all rose-colored, but what he did was wrong. That's your heart, Dude, and he just stomped on it."

Blaine sniffles, starting to cry again at Finn's words, which stops Finn in his tracks. For half a second.

"I know Kurt's a good person, so he wasn't trying to hurt you... but, he did it, anyway! And after everything you've been through..." Finn feels like crying himself.

Blaine whispers a question, afraid to hear the answer but hoping for one all the same, "What do you think's wrong with me?"

Finn squeezes Blaine so close it's almost painful, "_Nothing_."

"Then how come you're the only one who's willing to hug me?"

"They're... They're stupid! You're awesome, and people who don't see that are stupid. Parents who don't hug their kids are stupid. Kurt was... Kurt was really, really stupid."

"That makes sense. No one loves me because everyone besides me has been stupid. Wow, I really must be amazing." Blaine tries for sarcastic, but just ends up with bitter.

Finn sighs, "I know crap has happened to you, so you don't feel very awesome, but you are. Like, you get all those solos, which _totally _makes Kurt jealous. And you have a _Lamborghini_, which makes _me_ jealous! And your badass taste in movies!"

"I watch Cinderella. The cartoon."

"That's... like... diversified. Look, you can't change my mind about this. I know I'm right, and I'm going to argue with you until you believe me. ...But, not now, since you're crying into my shirt again."

"S-Sorry."

"It's okay. Come on, at least accept that _I_ think you're awesome."

Blaine sniffles and nods into Finn's shoulder.

Finn nods back, satisfied.

Blaine's voice is muffled, so Finn has to strain to hear, "Do you think Kurt and I are still friends?"

Finn's kind of surprised Blaine's concerned about this. "Do... you want to be?"

"I never wanted to lose him."

"Well, then do you feel like you're still friends?"

"I never know what I feel anymore."

"Maybe you should figure that out first. You two were always good at talking to each other, so once you do, you know, figure it out, maybe you should try talking to him again." Finn's pretty confident that's the best advice he's ever given.

Blaine thinks a moment before responding, "I think that's a good idea."

*Thank you for all your amazing reviews!*


	13. Chapter 13

*You guys, you broke my review record! I got 49 for the last chapter! 49! I've never gotten that many! And Colorblind City broke their own review length record and filled two whole fields. I'm pretty sure you guys wrote more words about the chapter than were in the chapter. I'm floored. Yes, after a week, I'm still floored. You are all amazing, and I am so spoiled.

THANK YOU to my wonderful beta, Gottriplets!*

Blaine lets Finn drive them back to the Hummel home. He fills the ride with a fountain of apologies for breaking down like he did, and to each one Finn promises, "Dude, seriously, it's okay."

When they reach the curb Blaine has claimed with a collection of his vehicles, Blaine explains that it is simply too late for him to be bothering anyone, and before Finn can protest, he's on the sidewalk, watching the Lamborghini disappear.

He was going to invite Blaine in to play video games. Whenever something is bothering Finn, he just starts up a first-person shooter and lets his violent instincts take over. Generally after a couple hours of that, his mind sorts out his problems for him. Well, Blaine might not be here, but that video game still feels like a pretty good idea. He grabs a controller and starts gunning down everything in sight.

Something keeps niggling at the back of his mind about Blaine's tearful confession. Something about Kurt's reasons to not date the boy.

_"...can't tell when someone's not interested..."_

_"...doesn't know how to take no for an answer..."_

The words play over and over in his head. They bother him, trigger something hidden in his mind.

_"...take no for an answer..."_

A memory. Kurt... in a funny white hat.

_"...you don't understand that no means no..."_

Shit! The alien/zombie/mob boss/whatever Finn's fighting shoots him dead, but he doesn't care.

Those words... Everything Kurt said was wrong with him... They were Finn's words. Finn said that to Kurt, all over a stupid duet that Finn barely even remembers anymore, and it's still playing through Kurt's mind like some broken record.

That means... All of the trouble it caused, all the pain Blaine is in, is because of Finn. It's all Finn's fault.

Well, then Finn is just going to have to fix it.

Blaine and Kurt have a really awesome friendship, and he's not going to just let it die because of something he said. He's going to make things right. He just has to figure out how...

"Why is there a bag of trash on the porch?" Carole asks the house as she walks through the door.

Oops. That was Finn. "I was taking it out."

Carole spots Finn on the couch in front of the TV. "Ah. Needed a break, did you?"

Finn shrugs sheepishly, "I got distracted."

Carole laughs good-naturedly, "Well, it's ready for you."

Finn nods and gets up.

Wait. Opportunity. He follows his mom into the kitchen, "Hey, Mom, can I ask you something?"

She begins grabbing items to prepare dinner. "Are you asking to get out of taking the trash out?"

Finn stands awkwardly in the corner, trying to keep his lanky limbs out of the way of the cooking. "No, it's a real question."

Carole immediately sets the ingredients on the counter and sits at the kitchen table, indicating Finn join her. "Of course, Sweetie. What do you want to ask?"

Finn sits, diving into what he hopes is the heart of his problem, "So, if I said something to someone that really messed them up, and now I want to fix it, what do I do?"

Carole looks concerned, reaching out to cover Finn's hand with her own, "Did something happen?"

"No," Finn immediately responds.

Carole isn't convinced, "Okay. Well, is there a reason you're asking?"

"I... wanted the answer?"

Carole frowns, "You already know the answer, Finn. If you say something that hurts someone, you apologize to them and don't say it again."

"Yeah," Finn nods with a smile. It's so obvious; why didn't he think of that?

"So," Carole squeezes her son's hand, "you're sure nothing is going on?"

"I was just wondering," Finn assures. This is between him, Blaine, and Kurt, and he owes it to the other two to keep it that way.

Carole looks like she's going to say something, but stops herself. She instead settles on, "You know you can always talk to me, about anything, right?"

"Of course! You're the best!" Finn hops up, kisses his mom's cheek, and rushes off to mentally prepare a kick-ass apology.

Kurt's staring up at the undercarriage of a car he doesn't remember, looking for a problem he's probably passed up three times.

He can't focus.

The garage is especially busy today. A week of warm weather melted snow to apparently reveal every vehicular malfunction known to man, and with a mechanic out with theflu, everyone needs to be pulling their speedy A-game.

Kurt can't. His mind is elsewhere.

Blaine just seemed so much worse today. The rumor mill responded with full force, each theory more terrifying than the last. Kurt kept trying to catch Blaine, to speak with him himself, but either Blaine has become deaf or he was ignoring him. The former is ridiculous, though the latter doesn't make sense, either. Why would Blaine ignore him? Kurt didn't do anything wrong. He just gave Blaine what he asked for, like a good friend. Right?

And even if Blaine was hurt over something, he shouldn't just shut Kurt out. Okay, so maybe the attempts to speak with him weren't the most valiant of their kind, but when Kurt raced from his fourth period to Blaine's, he really hoped to meet him for lunch. It's not his fault the population of Dalton moves at the pace of a pregnant cow! And then Blaine wasn't even in the cafeteria. And Blaine loves taco salads, so he really shouldn't have missed lunch.

Kurt sighs. His thoughts are barely organized anymore, making it impossible to sort through them for a solution.

A hand taps his ankle before grabbing hold and wheeling him out.

As soon as Burt's face comes into view, the man starts talking, "You've been lying under there like a dead fish for the past half hour. I know it doesn't take that long to find a leak in the fuel line."

So,_ that's_ what he was supposed to be doing.

Apparently something shows in Kurt's face, because Burt sighs, "What's on your mind, Kiddo?"

Kurt doesn't like lying to his dad, but it would take way too long to catch him up, and the garage needs the attention. Or something. He shrugs, "Just... school stuff. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be zoning out. I'll get back to-"

"I think you've done enough here for today. It's a Friday; you should enjoy yourself."

"Dad, I-"

"Seriously, Kurt. The guys and I can handle it."

It's not like Kurt's been much of an asset, anyway. "If you're sure..."

"Of course I am," Burt helps Kurt wheel the rest of the way to freedom and sit up.

"All right. I couldn't find the leak, but maybe you'll have better luck."

"I think you did," Burt chuckles, pointing at Kurt's cheek.

Kurt immediately touches his fingers to his face, disgusted as they slide through petroleum-based car drool.

The pure revulsion in Kurt's features just makes Burt laugh harder, "Go wash up. I'll meet you at home."

Kurt has never rushed so quickly to the bathroom.

There's a bag of garbage on the porch. At first, Kurt assumes the bullies are getting lazy, but then he remembers that that's Finn's chore, and it all makes sense.

Italian seasoning warms his senses as he walks through the door. Carole's home, making dinner. He should probably offer to help-

"Kurt, can I talk to you?" Finn thunders down the stairs.

"That depends. Is it more important than dinner?" Kurt continues to the kitchen.

"Yes."

Kurt stops in his tracks, eyes wide. _Nothing_ is more important to Finn than filling his stomach. He turns back to his step-brother, not hiding his surprise.

Finn rocks on the balls of his feet, "We should maybe do this upstairs." He starts up to his room, checking behind him to make sure Kurt's following.

"Is this about Rachel again?" Kurt guesses, trying to get a head start.

"We broke up," Finn frowns, a little offended that no one can keep up with his dating life.

"Right," Kurt spins the mental gears again, but Finn is a mystery. For all their lady chats, Kurt was the initiator. Finn never started a conversation that went deeper than football strategy, but this seems bigger. That's frightening. Not knowing the topic, this feels way too much like an interrogation for Kurt's comfort.

Finn plops down on his bed, leaving Kurt the desk chair, but the chair is low to the ground, creating an imbalance, so Kurt would rather stand, thank you.

Kurt's arms cross over his chest, his armor. Whatever Finn has to say to him, he's ready.

Finn looks Kurt in the eyes, face shining with sincerity, "I'm sorry."

Preparation be damned, Kurt was _not_ ready for that. "What?"

"I'm sorry. I've said some mean stuff to you, so I'm sorry, for all of it. No, that's weak. I'm sorry I called you a girl in third grade. I'm sorry I threw a pee balloon at you, but I really didn't try to hit you. I'm sorry I let them throw you in the dumpster. I'm sorry I didn't stand up for you when the guys made fun of you behind your back. I'm... sorry I joined in, but I haven't done it for a really long time. I'm sorry I never chose you for my team in PE. I'm sorry about the basement, and I'm really sorry I made you feel like you'd be an awful boyfriend... you know, with the 'no means no' stuff."

The 'no means no stuff' made Kurt feel like a sexual predator, but sure, let's go with awful boyfriend. "Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, but what is this all about?"

"I never really apologized for it all, and I should have, because it's still effecting you."

"Finn, I haven't brought any of this up in _months_!"

"Well, not to me-"

"Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean?"

Finn's eyes go wide, the look he used to get when he stepped on one of Quinn's verbal landmines, and guilt splashes in his eyes before he points behind his head.

Kurt follows the indicating thumb, confused until he realizes what he's looking at. That wall. That traitorously thin wall separating their nightly forms, allowing his every sleeping word to travel straight in Finn's ear. Kurt tightens his grip around his chest, "I thought we agreed you wouldn't mention what I say in my sleep."

"Yeah, but that was for when you were commanding your llama army. This is different; it's serious."

Kurt's cheeks redden. This is all so humiliating. He should not be held responsible for his dreams! This conversation needs to end. "Fine. I accept your apology. Are we done?" Kurt steps toward the door.

"No."

Kurt sighs and turns back, letting Finn continue despite every fiber of his being wanting to leave. "What else has my subconscious informed you of?"

Finn swallows then blurts out, "I know you weren't at Mercedes' last weekend. You were on a date."

The oxygen leaves the room. Terror grips Kurt's heart. If Finn knows, it's only a matter of time before his dad finds out. "That's it! We are moving our beds _this instant_! I swear, Finn, if you mention one word of this to my dad, I will put things in your shampoo your hair will never bounce back from!"

"Kurt. Chill." Finn says from his perfectly calm perch on his mattress.

Zen bastard.

Kurt stops shouting, but maintains his glare. He was _not_ kidding about the shampoo.

Finn continues, "I'm not gonna' tell your dad. I'm coming to you."

Kurt swallows down that horse-pill of fear. "Why? I don't see what business it is of yours."

"You gave your best friend, who is in love with you, one date, and have barely spoken with him since."

Just how freaking _specific_ has his sleep talking become? "This is seriously _none_ of your business."

"And I know you feel terrible about it."

Kurt chokes on whatever words were trying to come out of him next, and he's just left with, "What?" What could Finn possibly know about how he feels? It's _Finn_. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Dude, it's obvious by how defensive you're getting."

"I am_ not _getting defensive!"

"Yeah, like that. It's like when Quinn used to accuse me of having feelings for Rachel. I got like you are now because I knew it was true. Plus, you've been acting guilty since I asked to talk."

Kurt completely voids his face of emotion. Fine, if Finn wants to play detective, Kurt's just not going to give him any clues.

"Since you obviously aren't talking to your best friend or dad about it, I figured you could use someone. I'm your brother, so... you could talk to me."

"You want me to talk to you?" Kurt means the question to bite with judgement, but Finn's words crumbled his hardened resolve, so it's colored with far too much hope and vulnerability.

"Yeah, Man." Finn pats the bed next to him, "I mean, I already know most of it, right? I don't need to be caught up. You can just vent."

It's tempting. Too tempting. So tempting he goes for it.


	14. Chapter 14

*I'm so sorry about the cliffhanger! I didn't think it was that intense, but boy was I informed that I was wrong. I tried to update early as compensation, but I'm working almost 40 hours a week at one job, and finding time leaking into the other, as well. I can barely find the time to get it out once a week, it seems. It sucks when real life's responsibilities steal you away from what you really love. Anyway, I wasn't trying to be evil. I can't really argue though. Just because I know where the story is going and am therefore not left hanging, doesn't mean you all do... Today's lesson.

This chapter was made possible by the amazing Gottriplets!*

Kurt sits on the very edge of the bed, ready to bolt if this turns sour.

Finn just smiles at him, open and encouraging.

Kurt swallows, clears his throat, and swallows again, "I... don't know where to start."

Finn shrugs, "That's cool. So-"

"It wasn't my idea."

Finn shuts his mouth, letting Kurt continue.

"He _came_ to me and _asked_ for one day. It's what he wanted. I just... wanted to give him what he wanted."

Finn's mom has always told him not to jump to conclusions until he's heard both sides of the story. It's about time he used that advice. "You want to talk about that? You know, so it's from you and not... Sleeping You."

Kurt sighs. So much for not having to catch Finn up. He's about to say something along those lines, but he can't. Something inside him _wants_to do this. "It started with a movie. He loves Cinderella, so we watched that."

Kurt thinks about stopping, but watching Finn nod along encourages him. "He wanted... He wanted to know what it would be like to be my boyfriend, and I thought that if I were his boyfriend, I'd hold him, so I did. I just wanted to make it good for him. I like holding him; he's my best friend and we're really close. I think he liked it, as well."

Kurt pauses, perhaps to give Finn a chance to speak, but what is he supposed to say, really?

"I took him out to lunch and we held hands because that's how boyfriends act. It was nice. For him. I think it was nice for him.

"He... he deserved having me stay the night. He just wanted someone to be there with him. I had to. He's always been an amazing cuddler.

"And boyfriends are _supposed_ to kiss. Not doing so would have been robbing him of the whole experience."

They sure had kissed a _lot_, though.

"And you guys decided it wouldn't work out?"

"What?" Kurt furrows his brow, confused.

"At the end of the date, you agreed you wouldn't go on another? It just didn't work out?"

"No, Finn, it wasn't a real first date. It was only ever going to _be _one day."

"Why?"

They had been _through_ this. "Because that's what Blaine asked for."

"Do you think that was really what he wanted?"

"Of course! Why else would he say it?"

"So, you gave him everything he wanted?"

"Yes! I did exactly what he asked! I shouldn't be feeling this guilty!"

"Kurt, you know he's in love with you. Did you_ seriously _think one day would be enough for him?"

"I-" Kurt bites his lip, trying to hold onto the idea that he did the right thing.

"Would it have been enough for you, last year, to have just one day with me?"

Kurt gasps, completely shocked Finn would bring _that _up. This was a bad idea. Kurt doesn't need this. He's under too much stress to deal with Finn throwing his past in his face.

"Look," Finn seems to notice Kurt closing off, "I know we have this silent agreement not to talk about it, so the fact that I'm bringing it up should show you how important this is."

Kurt frowns. No matter how important Finn thinks his point is, some things should be kept sacred.

"Seriously, Kurt, think about this: If last year, when you had a crush on me, I had told you we could be boyfriends for one day, would it have been enough?"

This is so humiliating. He should just get up and leave right now. Why isn't his body co-operating?

"You don't have to answer that; I know it's weird. Just, think about it, and tell me if you think one day was ever going to be enough for Blaine."

A long silence passes between them, and Kurt can feel Finn's eyes boring into him.

"Yes."

"What?" Finn's surprised by the answer.

"One date was all he needed to realize he doesn't really love me."

Finn doesn't repeat his "what," just looks confused.

"I'm the first boy to really be there for him. It makes sense he would develop an attachment to me, but that isn't love. That date was to show him that."

"Kurt-"

"It's some sort of Hero-Worship Florence Nightingale Syndrome. He needed to get me out of his system, so he would see me instead of the person he wanted me to be. So he could see I'm not perfect; I'm self-absorbed and judgmental and not as wonderful as he imagines. He thinks he loves me because he just hasn't realized that yet."

"No, that's not-"

"He has to get over me, because carrying around those feelings... It's _torture_."

"Kurt, I-"

"He has to move on, because when his heart's in my hands it's too vulnerable, and I'm inevitably going to do something or say something to crush it. I just can't do that, I can't hurt him like-" Kurt stops himself before he can say too much.

It's not soon enough.

"You can't hurt him like I hurt you." Finn finishes, eyes wide and unfocused.

"No, Finn, this isn't about you-"

"Of course it is. I knew it was, I just didn't know how much."

"Finn..." Kurt wants to say something, maybe argue or comfort or deflect, but nothing comes.

Finn licks his lips, "Um, you're right. What you felt for me wasn't love. It was that Hero-Worship Florence thing, because I was the first guy who was ever there for you. Er, or there for your designer jackets. You didn't know me, so there was nothing to fall in love with. Blaine's different. _Blaine knows you_."

Kurt immediately brushes the idea off, "No, he doesn't. He thinks I'm this perfect person who can fill every void abandonment tore our of him. He places me on the same pedestal as his neglectful parents, as those friends from his old high school who never return his calls but he thinks still will, as every person who has ever left him. I can't be his boyfriend from up there. I can't trust such a fragile type of relationship."

"Why would it be fragile? You're really close."

"Look around you, Finn. Teenagers get together and break up like they're shopping for accessories. I can't do that to Blaine. I can't leave him when everyone else in his life has abandoned him." A spot deep in his throat begins to burn with emotion, but he bites it down.

Finn nods slowly, taking this all in. "Have you told Blaine all this?"

"Not... yet," Kurt bites his lip.

"Why not?"

Kurt swallows, "We haven't... really talked about it yet. He's needed space lately, which I've given him."

Finn nods like he understands, "Do you think he didn't like the date?"

Kurt's eyes widen as he gasps, "Why wouldn't he have liked it?"

"Well, you did the stuff you felt you were supposed to, right?"

"...Right..."

Finn shrugs, "You know how books are awesome and fun to read until a teacher assigns it, and then it's just something you have to get through?"

Kurt gasps again, hurt blossoming in his chest, "Finn, if you are insinuating I treated that date like a burden, or some boring assignment, you could not be more wrong. I put everything I had into it. I was a _perfect_ first date."

"Then why did you think it would help him get over you?"

All momentum comes to a halt. Kurt feels like his mind hit the breaks too fast, and parts of him are still surging, yet to be caught by the safety belt. "I... It was supposed to... He..."

"Maybe you should have, like, made it a bad date, so he'd think being your boyfriend would suck."

"No," Kurt shakes his head. "He deserved a good date. Treating him poorly would have been cruel."

"So, instead, he's left wishing for more and you'll never give it to him? How is that cool?"

Great, so he was doomed either way. He might as well have never gone on that date. Then he wouldn't have to worry about disappointing Blaine with a lousy experience _or_ leaving him to agonizingly pine for more.

...Oh.

Oh, God.

"Oh my God."

"Kurt?" Finn's face shifts into concern.

"Oh my God!" Kurt gulps down air as his heart assaults his ribcage. Oh my God! What was I thinking? Oh my God!"

"Hey," Finn grabs Kurt's hand, "calm down. Don't pass out on me."

"I screwed up! Oh my God, I screwed it all up." The world spins around him as Kurt sinks lower into realization. "I ruined everything."

"Hey, whoa, Dude." Finn is quickly losing his brother. He can see those blue eyes glazing over. "Come back."

Kurt locks eyes, and they fill with an absolute desperation, a _need_ for Finn to understand him, "It was never supposed to hurt him. I never wanted- I would _never want_ to hurt him. He-he was supposed to realize I wasn't right for him. He was supposed to see I wouldn't make a good boyfriend."

"Kurt, you'd be an awesome boyfriend!" Finn can't handle his brother falling apart like this. He _has_ to fix it. "You know all this cool stuff to do, like that Sound of Music Singalong and the karaoke place you told me to take Rachel to. And, you'd talk on the phone all the time, and wouldn't get bored or accidentally watch TV while they're talking. You'd know exactly what gifts to buy and remember when to buy them-"

"Then why wasn't I good enough for you?" The second the words are out there, Kurt regrets them. He needs to quit bringing up that humiliating crush. It's bordering on masochism at this point.

"Kurt, it was never about you being good enough. I'm not gay. You could be the most awesome boyfriend in the world and it wouldn't matter! I has _nothing_ to do with you."

Kurt retreats into himself, shrinking and hiding. Finn shakes their still-joined hands to bring him back.

"Kurt, I became your friend because I like you. That's what straight guys do. If they like a guy, they become friends. So, you're totally good enough for me! ...Wait, that came out wrong. I mean, if I were gay, I'd be totally into you. ...Shit, that was worse." Finn takes a second to think before speaking. "Kurt, as your brother, I think you'll make some guy an amazing boyfriend."

Kurt frowns, "Great. So, I'm an amazing boyfriend who just ruined his relationship with his best friend."

"Not ruined," Finn pressed. "Just... You just need to talk to him. Tell him what you told me."

Kurt bites his lip, "Do you really think that will work?"

"I... think there's only one way to find out."

Kurt nods. That was the obvious answer. Of course he needs to speak with Blaine. Giving space before they ever discussed why it would be necessary was premature. He should have spoken with Blaine immediately, let him get all his feelings out, and _then_ given him time to sort his thoughts on his own.

"This is that intro... something phase where you stop talking, isn't it?" Kurt's lack of response is all the answer Finn needs. "Okay, I'm gonna' go." Finn slips out.

Kurt stares unseeing as his mind races. He and Blaine need to talk. The sooner, the better. Kurt never realized how badly his actions might have effected the other boy. He needs to explain himself, see if he can get Blaine's forgiveness, try to move them past this. Blaine's his best friend; he cares about him and doesn't want to see him hurting.

Blaine's supposed to come over this weekend. It's absolutely perfect timing. This conversation should not be postponed any longer. Blaine should be calling to confirm plans this very evening. As soon as Blaine arrives, Kurt will take him up to his room, explain everything, and... it will be a start.

Kurt's optimistic now. If he continues to dwell, he'll probably lose that, so he yanks himself from his mind.

Dinner smells amazing.

By the time Kurt goes to bed, Blaine still hasn't called. It's fine; even the most punctual can get side-tracked. He leaves his phone on his nightstand, volume on maximum, just in case.

No call wakes him through the night.

All Saturday, his phone doesn't leave his person. It lives in his pocket. As the hours drag on, he checks for missed calls more often. Just in case. It's ridiculous, though, because there's no way he's going to miss a thing that phone does.

He distracts himself. He has to. He tackles future school assignments. He prepares a gourmet lunch for his family. He reorganizes his scarf drawer.

A text comes in the early evening, and Kurt whips his phone out so fast he almost drops it.

"Hey boo. T n i r goin 2 the mall. Wanna join?"

It's from Mercedes, not Blaine, and the disappointment stings.

"Cant. Plans. Have fun tho!"

He does have plans. He _does_. Blaine just needs to call and confirm, which he'll do. He _will_. Soon.

The phone remains silent through the night. Kurt checks it the moment he opens his eyes, anyway.

That phone doesn't make a peep all Sunday. As night starts to creep in, thus ending the weekend, Kurt finds himself lying on his bed, staring at the phone in his hands.

Why didn't Blaine call?

They had plans. Blaine never misses their time together. Even when Kurt's called last minute, Blaine has been able to show up. They're best friends. It's what best friends do.

They are still best friends, aren't they?

What if... What if Blaine is so hurt by the date that he doesn't want to be anymore?

What if Blaine never talks to him again? That would be awful!

Kurt never wanted to lose Blaine! He just made a mistake; he shouldn't lose an entire friendship over it.

He falls asleep clutching his phone to his chest.

When he wakes up, there are still no calls.

That's it. He's ending this silence. When he gets to school _he's_ finding Blaine, and he's going to explain everything, and it's going to be better. Their relationship will go back to what it was, and they can move forward.

Determination fuels him all the way to Westerville.

He finds Blaine near his own first period class. "Blaine," he catches the boy's attention as he approaches. Not one to skirt a subject, Kurt announces, "I think we need to talk."

Blaine nods his agreement and ducks into an empty classroom.

Kurt follows, shutting the door. "I was wrong," he immediately admits. "I went about last weekend in the worst way possible, and I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

Blaine's voice is small and mumbled, almost imperceptible, "You did."

"I know," Kurt did know, but hearing Blaine confirm it brings tears to his eyes, "I'm so sorry. I was stupid. I thought I was doing the right thing. It kills me knowing what I actually did to you."

Blaine shakes his head, his jaw tight, "It figures you'd pick now to care."

Kurt steps forward, closer to Blaine, "I never stopped caring about you!"

Blaine steps back, away, "Then where were you?"

"I thought you needed space! I was trying to give you what you wanted."

"Well, that wasn't how I saw it. All I saw was my best friend abandoning me when I _really_ needed you."

"No. Not abandoning." Not that. Never that. Kurt can never do that! A single tear escapes his lashes.

Blaine sighs, "Kurt, if you came to me a week ago, maybe I would have responded differently, but I've had time to think, and I realize... I'm angry. Maybe I don't have the right, but I'm angry at you."

Kurt gasps, not surprised by the fact but surprised Blaine actually voiced it, "Blaine-"

"I need more space, I guess, but this time on my terms. I... I just need to really think this through. I'm glad you came to me, and thank you for apologizing, but I'm not ready to forgive you yet. Just... give me time."

Kurt stifles a sniffle, holding back his tears. He's not the victim here. Not trusting his voice, he just nods, and watches Blaine walk away from him.

*Thank you all for your reviews! They make my life!*


	15. Chapter 15

*So, this is late. I'm so sorry. I'm tied up in a legal battle, and possibly losing my live-in job and having to find a new place, and it's effecting my ability to focus. I don't know of any good ways to alert readers that the story is being worked on, and will just need a bit more time. It's always disappointed me when new chapters of stories seemed to be posted, when they were in fact just apology notes, but that seems to be the most commonly used method. I still don't think I want to go there.

Thank you to all of you who still continue to review this story even though I haven't been able to respond for, like, three chapters. I cherish them all, and have responded to most in my head, but actually typing them up is more of a challenge. I'll be responding soon! I love corresponding with you all, but I hate feeling like I have to fit it in my schedule and rush through it. Not cool.

Many, many thanks to my wonderful beta, Gottriplets!

Also, this chapter comes with its own playlist.**

Kurt sits behind Blaine during Warblers practice, so he's not in the other boy's line of sight. Blaine deserves to enjoy what was always his favorite part of the day without the reminder that he and Kurt aren't speaking. He deserves his space. It's just a coincidence that the position means Kurt can watch Blaine through the whole meeting.

Blaine doesn't participate much in the conversation, but he's engaged, nodding at the appropriate moments. He even voices a song preference, and might have said more, had an argument about the Warblers _not_ being a barbershop quartet not impeded their progress.

As Blaine gets up to leave (and Kurt carefully avoids looking like he's watching), Wes pats him on the shoulder and wishes him good luck on their Calculus test tomorrow. Blaine's eyes widen before he accepts the luck with a quiet, "You, too." Kurt knows that look. Blaine may have tried to hide it, but it's obvious he'd forgotten about the test. Kurt also knows what that means. Blaine doesn't take school lightly. When the assignments pile on, he just works harder. If he actually went as far as forgetting about a _test_, he's pulling an all-nighter.

Poor Blaine will be exhausted tomorrow, and with all the time he'll dedicate to Calculus, he won't have any time to get himself coffee.

With that thought comes Kurt's first stroke of genius.

The next morning finds Kurt at the Lima Bean, bright and early, facing a sleep-crinkled-yet-cheery barista.

"Hi, can I have one nonfat mocha and one medium drip, please?"

"Sure. Will that be all?"

"Y- uh," Blaine won't have time for breakfast, either. "Could you add the ham and cheese croissant?"

"All right, that will be $6.12."

While Kurt waits, he pulls out a notebook and a pen. The pen turns out to be red, but it will make a dashing statement.

He begins to write.

"Dear Blaine-"

Dear? No. He can't call him 'dear.'

Kurt flips the page and starts again.

"Blaine,

I heard you have a math test today-"

God, that's already boring.

Try three.

"Blaine,

I hope you didn't have to study too hard-"

That's judgmental. When did notes become difficult?

"Blaine,

Good luck on your Calculus test!"

Now, was that so hard? Kurt doesn't sign his name, deciding that's the line not to cross when it comes to giving Blaine space.

Gift breakfast in hand, Kurt gets to Blaine's first class before anyone else arrives and heads straight for the desk he's walked Blaine to dozens of times before. Dalton doesn't have assigned seating, but for all intents and purposes, _this_ is Blaine's.

He sets the note down, unfolded and easily visible, and places the paper coffee cup over the corner to keep it in place. The bagged croissant he places on a napkin, grease stain down because ew, and his designer's eye is satisfied.

What is he doing? Staring down at the coffee cup, Kurt feels the first tendril of doubt. He's supposed to be giving Blaine space. Is this too much? Will this overwhelm him?

It's... It's not like Kurt's trying to get in the other boy's face. He won't even be here when Blaine arrives. And, he's not just trying to show Blaine how good of a friend he is so the other boy will talk to him again. Kurt Hummel _is_ a good friend, so he's making sure his best friend has coffee and breakfast to get him ready for that damn Calculus test. If Blaine is touched enough to end the silence, well then it's a win for both of them.

He leaves the room just as the teacher arrives.

"Excuse me, Professor?" Kurt points to the arrangement, "Could you please make sure Blaine Anderson gets that?"

The professor smiles warmly at the breakfast before nodding, "I'm sure he'll really appreciate it."

A similar warmth floods Kurt's chest at the words. "Thank you."

With that, the first bell rings and Kurt rushes off to his own class.

It's a miracle. Kurt's math teacher has finally run out of things to talk about. He's actually able to finish a lesson without the bell interrupting lecture. This means that not only are his students not late to lunch; they're actually four whole minutes early. Knowing this will never happen again, the classmates race to the cafeteria, hoping to finally try the treats that are usually gone by the time they arrive.

They aren't the first students there, since there _are _actually teachers in this school who enjoy giving themselves a longer lunch, but they are privy to a desert almost none of them have seen before: bread pudding; it's new, so it_ must_ be their's.

By the time Kurt, who has never been excited enough by food to run through the halls like a child aiming for summer vacation, gets to the deserts, there is only one bread pudding left. This wouldn't normally be a problem. Kurt would just take his usual fruit and yogurt parfait and leave the sugary treat for the next boy. Only, he happened to notice (read: scoured the cafeteria) that Blaine has yet to arrive, and bread pudding is absolutely his favorite desert.

Kurt grabs the bread pudding.

He doesn't go far. At the first table he comes to, he sets his tray down. He doesn't sit, though. He needs to be ready. As soon as Blaine steps out of the lunch line, Kurt needs to give him the bread pudding. He can't wait for Blaine to find a seat. Dropping the desert off when Blaine is seated, then awkwardly walking away when they are expected to spend lunch together would attract attention, make Blaine feel uncomfortable. Blaine doesn't need to answer prying questions about the state of their relationship right now.

Kurt stands, hovering over his food, and waits. Aiming for nonchalance, he fixes his cuff. Slowly. He unfolds it, tugs out any wrinkles, and refolds. Then he does the other.

So, this is taking longer than anticipated.

Kurt kneels to re-tie his shoes, just to remember he's wearing zip-up boots today. So, he's kneeling for nothing. He dusts the toe of his boot, just in case anyone's watching, and regains his full height.

Finally, he spots Blaine in line. It's just a glimpse of hair in the crowd, but Kurt would know those gelled curls anywhere.

Gone is Kurt's forced casual air as he watches that head slowly inch forward. The crowd thins between them, and Kurt can make out Blaine's disappointed frown at the lacking desert table.

Blaine walks away from it empty-handed, leaving the crowd entirely, and Kurt has room to strike. Tray in hand, he beelines for Blaine. Before the other boy even spots him coming, Kurt deposits the small desert plate on Blaine's tray and keeps walking. He doesn't stick around for a thank you. This isn't about that. It's about getting Blaine his bread pudding, and that happened.

He's walked twelve paces before realizing he didn't fully think out the exit strategy. He's just sort of... leaving, no real goal in sight.

He really has to work on this whole planning thing.

"Hey, Kurt!" Jeff calls him over to the forming Warbler table, thus saving him in the nick of time from looking like a fool.

He sits, a grateful smile on his face.

"Blaine, over here!" Jeff calls next, and that smile drops. Exactly what Kurt wanted to avoid is happening. Blaine won't be able to sit with him, which will draw attention to the predicament, which Blaine shouldn't have to deal with. He can feel Blaine's gaze fall on him and holds his breath.

"Sorry, Guys, but I need to study through lunch," Blaine explains as he aims for an isolated seat across the room.

Just like that, his friends let him go, returning to their chatter about the merits of 90's boy bands as Blaine eats alone.

Kurt watches him through the meal, and not once does that boy crack open a book.

Warblers practice goes exactly as it did yesterday, with as little communication with Blaine, and it's beginning to wear on Kurt.

He's lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, missing his best friend. He used to call him at this time. Back before Winter Break, and all the chaos it brought, Kurt and Blaine used to spend at least an hour after school on the phone. It started with Blaine checking on him during the Karofsky trauma, morphed into him making sure Kurt made the long drive back to Lima okay, became a chance for them to just spend desired time in each other's company... and now it's gone.

He misses it. So much.

His fingers keep twitching to the phone bulging from his pocket, even though he _knows_ better, and he can't take this. He can't take the silence.

He needs to.. He needs... Music. He needs music. Happy music, to make him feel happy inside.

He has a playlist for this, a response to his very first, and very awful first day at McKinley, and as soon as "Oh, happy day!" rings out, he's starting to feel marginally better. He shuts his eyes and lets the optimism of Idina, Liza, and Gene Kelly alter his mood. There aren't many clouds a good cry and "Defying Gravity" can't at least shape into fuzzy animals.

Kurt's eyes pop open. _This_ is what Blaine needs. Sure, it isn't the cure all to end all, but as sad as Blaine has been lately (because of Kurt), he can use the musical pick-me-up.

He thinks about just copying his own cheerful playlist (entitled 'They'll All Work For Me Someday'), but it has far more Broadway than Blaine would choose. This is, after all, _for_ Blaine. Kurt logs into the iTunes Store and starts searching. A list quickly forms.

He starts with Judy Garland's "Over the Rainbow" because The Wizard of Oz was the fifth movie they saw together, then immediately finds "A Moment Like This." He makes sure it's the Kelly Clarkson original, because for Blaine, before there was Katy Perry, there was_Kelly Clarkson_. "Simply The Best" goes in easily because, as Blaine explained, one can not love musical divas and not worship Tina Turner. Kurt argued the same could be said about Diana Ross, which led to a fit of giggles over the iconic claim of one of her hits, so in goes "I'm Coming Out."

Blaine is apparently extremely inspiring, and Kurt finds his task easier and easier. Blaine sounds amazing when he sings any Queen song: "Don't Stop Me Now." Kurt hopes he's not being too obvious, but "You're My Best Friend" goes right in with it. He picks "Never Gonna Give You Up" because there was a month where David Rick-rolled them so often they refused to open his emails. Since they always sing along with in on the radio, U2's "Beautiful Day" _has_ to go on the list.

Kurt finds that Blaine's favorite obscure band, Aqua, has a song called "Best Friend." It's a legitimately happy song. No ulterior motives are required to put it on the list. Really. Ahem.

Pretty soon, he's just tossing in happy songs as he thinks of them, wanting to put as much in as possible. "What a Wonderful World," "Joy to the World," "Walking on Sunshine" (despite images of too many yellow babydoll dresses at once), "I Will Survive," "You've Got a Friend," "Bubbly," "Lean On Me," "A Beautiful Morning," "You Raise Me Up," and "Top of the World."

He tops it off with "Footloose" to make an even 20, because Kurt can totally see Blaine going all Kevin Bacon on the Dalton couches.

He purchases the songs he doesn't already own, burns a CD, and Sharpies, "Blaine's Happy Collection." Okay, it's cheesy, but Kurt Hummel is nothing if not direct.

The rest of his evening is filled with the homework he put off, which means he misses Top Model, but it's worth it.

The next morning, the CD (protected in a Bedazzled jewel case), is left on Blaine's first period desk, precisely where the coffee went the day before.

It has Kurt worrying by his first class. His first gift was subtle, and could have been left by anyone. The bread pudding was hardly a grand gesture. A mixed CD, though? Why does it occur to Kurt _now_ that that's typically a romantic choice, a holdover from the 80s mixed tapes filled with horribly obvious songs about sex acts?

He's apologizing for the time he treated Blaine like his boyfriend by giving him a boyfriend gift! He could smack himself.

No. No, this isn't an apology, and it certainly isn't romantic. There is no lovin' in elevators or pouring of sugar on anyone on that CD. It's just happy music for the best friend he wants to be happy. That's it.

At least, Kurt knows that, but as he needs to occasionally remind himself, the world does not revolve around him and Blaine doesn't know what's going on in his head. And, he's back to wanting to smack himself.

Kurt leaves class trying to formulate a plan to fix the mistake that gift certainly caused (so far, it involves a time machine), when he comes face to face with Blaine. He gasps. He feels like he should go, or avert his eyes, but Blaine is looking right at him, and he just can't move.

Blaine holds the CD up for Kurt to see.

Kurt's lip trembles. Is this it? Is this the end? The real end? The moment Blaine explains how little space Kurt is giving him, how he's violating their agreement?

Blaine clears his throat, looks at the CD as if to let it remind him of something, and looks back at Kurt, "Um, I wanted to say thank you."

Kurt's eyes widen, his jaw dropping a bit. Before he even has time to process, Blaine gives him a small half-smile and takes off down the hallway to his left.

Kurt watches him go, lips still parted, and a weight lifts from his chest.

The world's a little brighter. Maybe... maybe, there really is hope for their friendship.

**Thank you for reading and reviewing! Your kind words are everything a writer could ask for.**


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